


dangerously hot

by yixingminseokjongdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Cameos, Drinking, I don't even know how to tag this, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rockstar AU, Sexual Tension, all the cameos, bedroom eyes are a Thing, both yixing and jongdae's onstage sex eyes make an appearance, celebrities AU, that's all, things happen, this entire fic was written because of the exo'rdium in japan drop that performance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yixingminseokjongdae/pseuds/yixingminseokjongdae
Summary: Here are your nominees for the World Music Committee Award for Album of the Year:SeKai - PlayboyKARD - Project Vol. 3Ailee - HeavenLR - Beautiful LiarLay Zhang - Lose ControlEXODUS - EXCALIBURTune in next Saturday to see who comes out on top!  And don't forget to vote for Performance of the Night during the live show!





	dangerously hot

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to dedicate this fic to animelia because she blesses my life with her existence. animelia, you're welcome. this is the monster i have given birth to. please react accordingly.

When the band had heard that they had been nominated for Album of the Year as well as Best Rock Group, Best Rock Song, and Best Music Video, they went hard.  In all honesty, Jongdae doesn’t remember most of that week - Chanyeol had kept the four of them up to their lungs in alcohol.  But then Junmyeon had called, saying that the WMC wanted them to perform at the show, in one of the best slots of the night, as a contender for the fan-voted Performance of the Night award, and everyone had sobered up pretty quickly.

Chanyeol had produced a new arrangement two days after the call, and they were putting the final touches on it after a week.  Jongdae is very proud of his drummer/bassist/second guitarist/producer/composer (yes, Chanyeol takes on a lot of responsibility, but Jongdae knows how much he thrives on music so he lets him do as many things for the band as he wants without overexerting himself) - the arrangement is a seamless blend of the ballad up for two awards and a fan favorite off the new album, combining their powerful sound with the hard-hitting energy they’ve become known for.  

It’s now a week and a half before the award show, and they’ve just killed their first rehearsal of their new arrangement.  Their album is doing well across the charts and Jongdae’s heard ‘She’s Dreaming’ at least twice a day on the radio.  He’s supremely confident in his band’s ability to walk away with at least three awards and the fan vote, when the tinny sound of Super Junior’s ‘Sorry Sorry’ starts up.  He groans and grabs his phone, swiping across the screen to answer the call.

“What, Junmyeon?” he says.  

“Hello to you too,” his manager responds.  “I hope rehearsal went well?”

Jongdae lets his lips curl up.  “It went fabulously.  We’re looking set for that fan award.”

He can hear Junmyeon swallow through the phone.  “About that.”

Jongdae grips his phone tighter.  “Spit it out, Jun.”

“I got the finalized setlist for the show.  Along with the full list of nominees.”  Jongdae gulps.  The WMC Awards did things a little differently than most award shows - they notified the artists who were nominated about what they were up for a month in advance, and then released the nominees to the public a week before the actual award show and the artists themselves ten days before (and after the board of judges’ votes had been cast).  They claimed it made fan voting more fair, and also gave their board a level of impartiality that was unmatched.  The only catch was if word got out earlier, whoever had leaked the information would have a huge black mark next to their name.  The fairness and severe consequences had given the World Music Committee the prestige they were aiming for, and now, barely ten years after they had been founded, a WMCA was considered the top achievement of any musician.  But that meant that their nomination process was extremely difficult, so if Junmyeon sounded this worried over the nomination list… Jongdae swallows again.  

“Tell me.”

Junmyeon heaves a sigh.  “I’m not worried about the two genre categories, no one else has the level of influence and talent you do.  But I wouldn’t get your hopes up about the MV… and both the album and the fan award will be very close.”

“Who are we up against?”  Jongdae’s knuckles are white around his phone.  He’s worked his and his band’s asses off for these awards, hell if he’s going to lose.

“Well, those three awards are actually between the same six acts,” Junmyeon starts.  “Our good friends SeKai, the queen of pop Ailee, that new dancepop group KARD, the rap ballad duo LR, you, and…” He inhales.  “Lay Zhang.”

“Who?”

“Jongdae.” Junmyeon’s tone goes flat.  “Lay Zhang.  R&B sensation. Hordes of fans.  Sold-out concerts.  Over 10 million albums sold.  Please tell me you’ve at least heard of him.”

Jongdae gulps at the stats.  “Not until right this second.  You know I don’t really keep track of pop stars.”

“You and he are both major-league household names,” Junmyeon says.  “He’ll be your biggest competition.  And I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to beat yourself up in case he wins.”

Jongdae is silent for a moment, mulling everything over in his head.  “Okay.”

“Okay?” Junmyeon sounds taken aback.

“Yeah.  I can’t change the board’s mind, so if he wins MV and album okay.  I won’t be happy about it, but it’ll be fine.  But…”  Jongdae smirks.  “I can win over the fans.  That performance award is ours.”

 

***

 

T-10

Yixing leans back on the couch, tossing another popcorn kernel in his mouth as his best friend and manager continues rattling off the list of his fellow WMC nominees.  Luhan glances up from his email and glares at him.  “If you get popcorn stuck in my couch again, Xing, I will actually murder you.”

Yixing waves a hand.  “I won’t, Luhannie, stop worrying so much.”  He throws another one in, his mind returning to potential new song lyrics, until he’s startled by the loud slap of a hand on the end table.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”  Yixing lets his eyes refocus on his friend, who looks very murderous.  He shrugs, smiling a little to let his dimple show.  “Ugh!”  Luhan whirls away.  “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me?” Yixing offers, sitting up and rolling the popcorn bag closed.  

“I most definitely do not,” Luhan says from the kitchen table.

“Wrong answer,” he chirps as he stands, stretching his arms over his head to crack his spine.  Luhan groans at the sound.  “Just tell me again,” Yixing says, bringing the popcorn back to its cabinet.  “More succinctly.”

Luhan smacks his arm as he sinks into a chair.  “You’re up for Best R&B Song, Best R&B Artist, Best Collab, Best MV, and Album of the Year, remember?  I’m only worried about MV and album, the other three you have in the bag.”  Yixing nods.  “So for those two, plus the fan performance award, it’s the same six acts,” Luhan continues.  “You, LR, that diva Ailee, KARD, your rookie dance duo-”

“SeKai,” Yixing interjects.

His friend nods.  “Right, them.  And then your biggest competition - EXODUS.”

When Yixing’s face remains blank, Luhan’s eyes bug.  “Zhang Yixing, please tell me you know who EXODUS are.”  Yixing shakes his head.

“Why, are they popular?”

Luhan stares at him in shock before whipping out his phone.

“Are they popular,” he mumbles, fingers flying across the screen.  He finds what he’s looking for and flips it around to show Yixing.

It’s the official YouTube page for EXODUS.  Luhan’s finger is pointing at a view count on a video.  “Can you see that?”  he asks, shaking the phone.  

Yixing takes a look at the number and feels his eyebrows raise.  “75 million?”

Luhan grimaces.  “And that’s one of their lesser-known songs.”  He thumbs to another video.  “Look at this one.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yixing breathes.  The number sits at 984 million and counting.

“Yeah.”  Luhan closes the app and puts his phone down on the table.  “Biggest rock group this century.  They’ve outsold every single one of their competitors at least five times over.  Huge cult following.”

“That explains why I haven’t heard of them,” Yixing says, putting his chin in his hands.  “You know I don’t like rock music.”

“Yes, but they’re _everywhere_ ,” Luhan answers.  Yixing just shrugs.

“Well, I can’t necessarily change the board’s mind, so if I lose MV and album I’ll survive.”  Luhan side-eyes him.  “It’ll suck, for sure, because we deserve those awards,” he adds, and Luhan cracks a smirk.  “But let’s see what we can do about this performance.”  He stands and walks to where his phone is plugged in charging.  “Where’s the ceremony this year?”

Luhan scrolls through his email again.  “Seoul,” he says.

Yixing grins.  “Get me on a plane there tomorrow along with the rest of the usual crew.”  He hits send on a message to his friend and fellow choreographer, who just so happens to be based in Seoul.  “This is going to be one hell of a performance.”

 

***

 

T-7

Jongdae paces around the stage with the director by his side, yammering about lighting and the enter and exit timing.  He nods where necessary, noting the length of the performance area as well as the width, but the director’s words are like white noise until he hears “-but you won’t be needing the platforms for your set so we’ll keep them down.”  

“Say that again?”  The man blinks at the intensity in Jongdae’s face.  

“The rising platforms?  You won’t be needing them so the stage will be one solid length.”  Jongdae glances back over the expanse.

“Where are they?”

The director points.  “Three small ones at the back at varying heights and then the part we’re standing on right now.”

“How high are they?”  The man gulps and mumbles “Raise the back platforms” into his headset.  The stage shakes for a second and then the back section splits into three.  The middle platform is the tallest, with the two flanking at equal heights, and suddenly Jongdae has a vision.  “What about this one?” he asks.

“Slightly shorter than the middle,” the director answers, “but because of the central position it’s visible from all seats in the arena.”

“We’ll be using the platforms,” Jongdae says, making the decision on the spot.  “But I’m not sure of the full timing yet, I’ll have my manager secure us extra rehearsal time and we’ll get back to you.”  He gives the director a tight-lipped smile as he turns and walks offstage, heading in the direction he had seen Junmyeon go a while earlier.

 

~

 

Yixing can’t help the smile that steals across his face as he watches Yifan ogle the short, well-dressed man on the phone pacing in the hallway.  Zitao, however, has no shame.  “Duizhang,” he hisses, smacking Yifan’s arm, “stop staring.  You’re being obvious.”  Yifan flushes and drops his gaze back to his workbook while Luhan snorts from where he’s flopped in a chair, eyes glued to his phone screen.  

“Ge, what about this one,” Zitao says, handing Yixing a sheet of paper with a sketch.  Yixing looks it over and grins.

“What fabric is the shirt?” he asks, running a finger along the edge of the drawing.  

“Silk,” Yifan rumbles.  “From the description you sent us, we figured it would be better to keep it a little classier.”

“It’s perfect.”  Yixing looks up at his two friends, who together run one of the biggest fashion empires in the world.  “Thank you.  And snap fastenings, right?”

Zitao looks affronted.  “Ge, it’s like you have no faith in us.”

He smirks.  “After the last sketch Yifan sent me, I have to make sure.”  Yifan covers his face with his large hands and Luhan laughs out loud.

“There’s a reason he’s banished to mannequin design,” Zitao huffs, and Yixing giggles at the haughty look on the younger’s face.

“Ah, come on, Taozi, there’s no one else I would trust with my clothes,” Yixing says placatingly, and finally the blond cracks a smile.

“And your makeup, and your hair, and your entire aesthetic,” he adds.

“Of course.”  Yixing hands him the sketch and rolls his shoulders, feeling the tightness slowly ebb away from his muscles.  He stands, pocketing his phone.  “Luhannie, bathroom,” he says.  “If I’m not back before I get called shoot me a text.”

“Okay,” his friend says, and Yixing heads out of the waiting room.  He skirts by the suited man Yifan had been looking at earlier, who is still on the phone, and walks down the hallway.  He seems to remember a bathroom being down on the right, so he makes the turn and starts checking doors.  His phone buzzes, and he pulls it out - it’s not Luhan but Taekwoon, texting him a photo of Wonsik and his new puppy, and Yixing is so absorbed in looking at said photo and answering his friend that he forgets to look where he’s going.

He walks straight into someone and drops his phone with a grunt of surprised pain, but he sees the guy he bumped starting to lose balance so he grabs his arm and yanks him upright.  “Are you alright?” the stranger asks as he reaches down to pick up his phone.

“I’m fine,” he says, straightening, and then he looks the guy full in the face and feels all of his breath leave his lungs.

The stranger is gorgeous.  Flawless skin, thick dark hair swept off his face and parted in the middle, perfect cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and the most stunning pair of lips he’s ever seen.  Dressed in ripped blue jeans and a soft-looking green sweater, he’s like someone plucked Yixing’s dream man out of his head and breathed life into him.  Yixing blinks and shoves his thoughts back in line.

“I should be asking you if you’re alright,” he manages, smiling sheepishly.  The stranger returns his smile, lips curling up at the corners, and he looks so feline and mysterious and soft and _beautiful_ that Yixing has to remember how to breathe.

“I’m quite alright,” the stranger says.  “Thank you for saving me from falling.”  His smile grows.  

“I save the ones I can,” Yixing responds.  The stranger blinks before his face splits into a grin.

“And the ones you can’t?” he purrs.  Yixing blinks in confusion.  The guy’s grin grows again.  “The ones you can’t save from falling for -” He pauses and blatantly scans him, and Yixing’s heart starts going double-time.  “All of that.”  He pulls out his best smoulder in response to the guy’s feline smirk.

“Well, I can’t do much, seeing as there seem to be more and more of them every day.”  Yixing winks and walks past him before he loses all of his nerve.

 

~

 

Jongdae stares at the man’s back (and, if he’s being honest with himself, that gorgeous ass) until he disappears into a room farther down the hall.  He’s never seen a man that attractive before in his life, and he’s pretty sure that his stomach is still doing flips caused by that fucking wink and the feeling of those strong, calloused fingers wrapping around his sweater-clad arm.  He already knows he’s not going to be able to get the image of the man out of his head - the perfectly casual sweep of dark hair across his forehead, the clean white shirt and ink wash jeans, the deep dimple that had appeared when he smiled, those stunning brown eyes, and the most alluring pair of lips he’s ever seen.  

He shakes his head and continues down the hall, pocketing his phone so he doesn’t crash into anyone else, and finally spots Junmyeon pacing with his phone pressed against his ear when he rounds a corner.  His manager turns and sees him, motioning that he’ll be another minute as his face drops into a scowl. Jongdae leans against the wall, arms crossed, and grins as Junmyeon starts yelling very forcefully at whoever’s on the other end.

He finally drops his phone and shoves it into his back pocket.  “That conversation went well, I take it,” Jongdae says, and Junmyeon swipes a hand over his face.  

“Someone started another breakup rumor,” he grumbles, and Jongdae’s eyebrows crease. “I’m handling it.”  A headset-bearing tech heads into a room about ten feet from them as Junmyeon continues.  “It’s kind of at the worst possible time though.”  Jongdae slings an arm around his manager and lays his head on the shoulder closest to him.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” he says.  “We’ll release a statement, and the performance in a week will show everyone that we’re clearly still a band.”  Junmyeon grins at him in response and then his face freezes as he looks at something over Jongdae’s shoulder.

Jongdae turns around and sees the tech person emerging from the room he went into, followed by a tall, skinny man with a shock of pink hair and two even taller blond men.  “Luhan,” Junmyeon says stiffly.  The pink-haired man stops in his tracks and then his lips curve up in a smirk.

“Hello, Junmyeon,” he says smoothly.  Jongdae narrows his gaze as he steps forward.  “Fancy seeing you here.”

Junmyeon swallows and Jongdae has never seen him look so stone-faced.  “I didn’t expect you to be here with an artist yet,” he says, voice like a viper, “seeing as you always leave everything to the last second and magically expect it to work out.” Luhan snarls - _actually snarls_ \- but one of the blond men puts a giant hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

“We’re gonna be late, Luhan,” the other blond says in halting Korean, sneering at Junmyeon, “you can fight later.”  He loops an arm through one of Luhan’s and steers him away.

“Oh, you bet there will be a later,” Luhan growls, eyes bright with fury as he lets himself be led away in the direction of the stage.  The three men and the tech leading them disappear around the corner and Junmyeon lets out a sigh.

“Explain.” Jongdae doesn’t give him a further chance to breathe, just points in the direction of their waiting room.

When they get there, Jongdae closes the door and faces his manager, arms crossed. Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair.  “Luhan,” he begins, “is the guy who broke Minseok’s heart our senior year of college.  Also my ex-best friend.”

Jongdae blinks.  “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, grimacing.  “The week after graduation was not pretty.  We both said some terrible things.”  He scratches the back of his neck.  “He moved back to China and the last thing I had heard was he joined an independent studio as a talent manager.  I haven’t seen him since then.”

“Well,” Jongdae says, uncrossing his arms and stretching one across his chest, “we’ll just keep you away from him for the next week.”  He smirks.  “Speaking of which, since he went towards the stage, can you see if you can get us two more onstage rehearsals?”

Junmyeon cracks a smile. “Using work to distract me, I see.”  He ruffles Jongdae’s hair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, hyung,” he calls as Junmyeon straightens his suit and exits the room.  He collapses on the couch and pulls out his phone, brushing away thoughts of this Luhan.  He has to type up his performance ideas and send them to the band group chat to see what his other members say.  He thinks they’ll go for it, and he starts humming the melody to ‘She’s Dreaming’ as he types.

 

~

 

“Why are they in such moods?” whispers Yixing to Zitao once they get back to his hotel suite.  Blocking had gone well until he got offstage and cracked a joke and had received no response from either Luhan or Yifan, both wearing their extreme scowls.  Their thunderous looks had worried him, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask earlier as he was slightly afraid that a mention of whatever had them pissed would cause an explosion from one or both of them, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

“Lu-ge is mad because he spoke to someone he doesn’t like and that person got him angry,” Zitao mumbles back as he combs his fingers through Yixing’s hair, absentmindedly pushing it into different styles.  “Yifan-ge is mad because said person was the guy in the hallway he was ogling.  And also because he had another pretty hot guy hanging off him when we ran into him.”

Yixing rolls his eyes as Zitao swoops his bangs up.  “Yifan-ge needs to grow a pair and realize that not everyone that shows affection is dating.  And that he can make his own decisions about people instead of always trusting Luhan.”  Zitao snorts and pushes some of his hair back.  “Ooh, what about that, Taozi,” Yixing says, motioning to the mirror.  

The designer tilts his head. “If we shave the sides, that might just work,” he comments.

Yixing grins.  “Let’s do it the night before.  Gotta surprise everyone.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Zitao returns his grin.  “I have to attempt to get Yifan to stop sulking, so I’ll see you tomorrow for a fitting, okay?”

“Okay.  Get some sleep, your eye bags are coming back,” Yixing says.  The blond shoots him a thumbs-up and a blown kiss before leaving his room and closing the door quietly behind him.  Yixing turns back to the mirror, contemplating his makeup, when his phone buzzes.  It’s Kasper, telling him that the crew is all available and if he could be at the studio around 11 tomorrow so they could run and revamp that would be fantastic.  Yixing texts back saying of course and adds a happy face emoji at the end.

 

***

 

T-5

The rest of the band had responded very well over text to Jongdae’s idea about the platforms, but he honestly didn’t expect Baekhyun to start screaming and running around with joy at the first rehearsal.  Chanyeol doesn’t even try and stop him, instead staring at the middle platform with a look of ecstatic glee.  Minseok finally grabs Baekhyun and threatens to smash a guitar over his head if he doesn’t shut up and Junmyeon shoots him a look of gratitude from offstage.  Jongdae grins.  “So, you guys think this’ll work?”

Chanyeol grins back.  “This is the best idea you’ve had since you said ‘Let’s form a band’, Dae.”

Minseok nods.  “Agreed.”  He turns back to the platforms.  “Chennie?  You think I could jump off mine at the end of my solo?”  

Jongdae turns and looks at him.  “Why not?  It’ll look awesome.”  

Minseok smiles and claps a hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s do a run and I’ll see how it feels.”

“Run!” Jongdae yells, and Chanyeol signals to the sound staff as they take their spots.

The dry run goes spectacularly.  Minseok nails his jump and Jongdae high-fives him as he jogs around stage, mentally marking the spots he wants to stop and serenade the audience.  They finish the set with Jongdae kneeling atop the central platform, mic thrust in the air, and every staff in the performance hall bursts into applause.  They traipse off the stage and Junmyeon meets them in their dressing room, grinning.

“That looked amazing, guys,” he says, and the four of them jump up and surround him, chanting “EX-O-DUS, EX-O-DUS.”  They break apart after a minute and Jongdae looks around at his members and manager and grins.  They’re going to kill it.

They all grin back until Baekhyun breaks the moment by asking, “What are we wearing for this?”

Jongdae glances at Junmyeon, who goes pale.

“Shit.”

“Emergency meeting at my place,” Junmyeon says, and they all nod solemnly.

 

***

 

T-3

Yixing makes it out of his dressing room and only elbows two people, a success considering twelve people are stuffed in the tiny space.  Eleven, he amends, as he sees Luhan arguing with a staff member a few feet away.  Luhan’s scowl is growing, and he looks like he’s about to beat the staffer, so Yixing heads over and rests a hand on his manager’s shoulder.  “Have Yifan come out and handle this,” he mumbles, “he’s more likely to wrangle us a bigger room without yelling.”  He smiles at the staff member.  “Sorry for the trouble, another member of my team will be out shortly.  If you could take him to whoever assigned rooms that would be a huge help.”  He flashes his dimple again and gently shoves Luhan towards the crowded room.

His manager shoots him a quick smile and mutters, “Thanks, Xing,” before wiggling between two of his dancers.  Yifan emerges a minute later, glare already locked in place.  He winks at Yixing before following the again-nervous staffer down the hall.  

Yixing turns around and heads to a large waiting room a few doors down.  There are snacks for all performers there and he desperately needs something to make it through the rest of his night.  There’s someone else sitting on one of the couches, head in a book, and Yixing pays them no mind as he heads to the snack table.  He grabs an apple, a bottle of water, and a couple granola bars before putting his things down and snagging a case of water for his dancers.  He goes to balance his snacks in a basket with more granola bars on top before he feels a tickle in his nose and lets out a reasonably violent dry sneeze.

“Bless you,” says a light voice, and Yixing says thank you as he turns with the case in his arms and then he freezes.  The face smirking at him over the back of the couch belongs to none other than the gorgeous guy he ran into four days ago, today with his hair in a middle part so it falls over his forehead and wearing a red button up.

“Ah, it’s you,” he says.  “I’m sorry again for running into you the other day.”

“No need to apologize,” the guy says, waving a hand in the air, eyes trained on Yixing, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”  He gestures to the food in Yixing’s arms.  “What are you doing in here?”

Yixing grins sheepishly.  “Snack run.”

The guy cocks a finely groomed eyebrow.  “For who?”

“Me and the rest of my crew.”  Yixing sees the guy’s eyes light up and then sweep over his figure, which brings a light flush to his cheeks.

“So you’re a dancer, huh,” he says as he stands and puts his book down.  “I wish I could dance.  My friends nicknamed me ‘Dancing Machine’.”  He pouts and Yixing can’t help the laugh that escapes him.  

“It’s never too late to learn,” he responds, letting his eyes roam over the man’s sharp lines (and his tight butt, perfectly accentuated by black jeans) as he turns around to grab an open bottle of water that was sitting by his feet.  “You have the right body type for it.”  

He manages to keep the blush off his face as the guy’s eyebrows raise and his kitty lips curl into a smile.  “You think so?” he asks.

Yixing scans him again.  “Yeah.”

The guy leans against the wall, crossing his arms, with his water in one hand.  “Maybe you could give me lessons sometime,” he says, his voice slightly rougher, then coughs.  “Excuse me,” he gets out, before swigging his water.

Yixing can’t help it - his eyes are glued to the man’s prominent Adam’s apple, and the bobbing motion it makes as he swallows is enough to make him want to leave a bruise there with his teeth.  He sees the guy lower his water and jerks his eyes back up to meet the other’s gaze.  “I do have to bring this to my crew,” he says, adjusting the case of water and suddenly feeling like the guy’s dark eyes are staring straight into his soul.  “Rain check on dance lessons for when I’m not busy?”  He takes a backwards step towards the door, sending him an apologetic smile.

“I’m here for the rest of the week,” the guy says, returning to his stance against the wall.  “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again and find time for them.”  He winks at Yixing, who feels his legs turn to jelly.  

“Of course.  See you around!” he calls as he hastily leaves.

In his distracted state, he goes the wrong way, and gets hopelessly lost in the maze of hallways in about two seconds.  He’s about to give up and ask a staff member how to get back to his dressing room when he hears Yifan’s deep voice rumble, “I asked for a spare room, not a switch!”  He smiles and heads towards it, rounding another corner and stopping when he sees Yifan towering over a harried-looking man and the same well-dressed man he had been eyeing their first day of rehearsals.  He presses his shoulders against the wall to take some of the weight off the rest of his body and waits.

Yifan leans forward and plants one hand on the wall to brace himself.  “I would prefer not to inconvenience anyone, Junmyeon-ssi,” he continues, “especially another high-profile artist.”  

The suited man rolls his eyes.  “There’s five in my party and twelve in yours, Yifan-ssi,” he says, “and our room is at least twice the size of yours.”

“I don’t want to cause you any issues,” Yifan counters.  “Your artists have had that room for the last week; they might not feel comfortable switching.  I’d rather just have a larger spare room.”  He looks at the third man, whose eyes have been darting between the two.

“Yifan-ssi, there will be no issues,” says the suited man, whose name Yixing infers is Junmyeon.  “If anything, my situation will be better. Chanyeol’s mess will be forcibly contained.”  He grins and Yixing is surprised to see Yifan’s lips twitch in response.

“All the same,” he says, “I would really prefer that you stay where you are.  It’s a matter of honor.”

“Wu Yifan-ssi,” Junmyeon answers, voice tipped dangerously low, “I insist that we switch rooms with you.  It’s a matter of _my_ honor.”

Yifan stares down at the shorter man, thick eyebrows drawn.  “Before anyone insists on anything,” he says, without taking his eyes off Junmyeon, “I would like this incompetent idiot to actually check if they have any larger spare rooms.”  The harried staffer blinks in shock and then bows repeatedly before dashing off.  Yixing giggles quietly.  Leave it to Yifan to scare the staff into doing what he wants.

“He really is an idiot,” Junmyeon says conversationally once the staffer disappears.  “I thought he would never get the hint.”

Yifan laughs.  “I almost thought he wouldn’t even get it when I said he was an incompetent idiot.”

It’s Junmyeon’s turn to laugh, and his eyes crinkle into half-moons as he does.  He is an attractive man, Yixing thinks, but nowhere near the levels of beauty of his mystery stranger.  He almost drops his water case when he sees Junmyeon lay a hand on Yifan’s arm and Yifan doesn’t immediately shake him off.

“You know, the offer is a serious one,” he says.  “If these bumbling fools can’t find anything, I will insist we trade.”  

Yifan looks back at Junmyeon’s face and Yixing is surprised to see a very light tinge of pink on his friend’s cheeks.  “I’ll take it into consideration,” he answers, and Junmyeon’s hand falls from his arm, and Yixing is almost a hundred percent certain he saw them brush hands.  He grins to himself and pushes off the wall - he’ll find a staff member to lead him back and leave Yifan to his flirting.

 

***

 

T-2

“So,” Baekhyun says, flopping on Jongdae’s bed, “please reiterate why we still haven’t figured out our leader’s outfit but the rest of us are set?”

“Because Jongdae is an indecisive asshole,” offers Minseok from where he’s stretched on a beanbag chair next to Jongdae’s closet door.

“Because the rest of us know we look hot as fuck and he’s insecure?” says Chanyeol.  

A hat smacks him in the head.

“Hey!”

“I’m not insecure, Chanyeol-ah,” Jongdae says from just inside his closet by the hatrack.  “I just want to look my absolute best while still being Chen the rock god and giving the performance of a lifetime.”

“And has nothing to do with the hot dancer you met,” mutters Minseok as he leans inside to see what Jongdae’s holding.  Jongdae glares at him until he raises his eyebrows and returns to his sprawling position.

“It doesn’t have to be the same outfit,” calls Junmyeon from the corner where he’s madly typing on his laptop.  “You do have time to change before you perform.”

Jongdae sticks his head out of the closet.  “Really?”

“ _Yes_ , Jongdae,” Baekhyun says exasperatedly.  “That’s why we all have two outfits.”  Jongdae whips his head around and glares at him.  Baekhyun smirks. “Would you hurry up and come out of the closet already?”

This time Jongdae lobs an entire wad of tops at Baekhyun, who squeaks as they all hit him in the chest.  Minseok snorts and covers his mouth with a hand.

“I did that three years ago, Baekhyun, as you very well know,” Jongdae says as if nothing happened, draping three possible pairs of pants over his arm.  “The closet jokes can stop, it’s been long enough.”  He eyes Chanyeol, who’s still grinning.  “Which pair of pants?”

“The ripped black ones,” Minseok says instantly.  “Those go with everything and they make your ass look good.”

“He’s not wrong,” Junmyeon says.  Chanyeol nods as well so Jongdae drapes them over his desk chair and throws the rest back in his closet.

“Hey, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, a suspicious lilt to his tone.  “Do you still have that jacket with all the zips?”  Jongdae shoots him a warning glance before heading back to his closet.

He digs through a rack of jackets before finding the leather jacket he thinks Baekhyun’s talking about, and holds it out as he exits.  “This one?”

Baekhyun grins evilly.  “Wear that with the jeans and nothing underneath.”

“BYUN BAEKHYUN!” Jongdae shrieks, and when Baekhyun cackles he tackles him.  They wrestle for a bit, Jongdae slapping his friend at every opportunity, before Baekhyun holds his hands up and cries, “I give!  I give!”

“We are not running a strip show, Baekhyun,” says Junmyeon, shaking his head.  

“Besides,” Jongdae adds, sitting up, “the only one of us who would be able to pull that off would be Minseok-hyung.”  

Minseok grins from his chair.  “I keep telling you guys to work out more.”

“Hey, I work out,” he whines.  

“I didn’t mean you,” Minseok says, “I meant those two lazy idiots.”

“I can’t even refute that, hyung,” says Chanyeol.

Jongdae looks down at the jacket he’s still holding.  “You know,” he starts, interrupting Baekhyun complaining about being called lazy, “I could wear a black tee under this, keep it classy but still rocker chic.”  

“That could work,” says Junmyeon, looking contemplative.

“Pair it with that skinnny Hermès belt I got you for Christmas,” adds Baekhyun.  Jongdae rummages in a drawer before he finds the belt, and he lays it across the pants before taking a step back and looking down at the finished outfit.  

“Looks good, Dae,” Chanyeol rumbles.

“Ah, but what about performance?” asks Minseok.  Jongdae grimaces.  He’s right to ask, this jacket is one of his favorites and he doesn’t want to sweat all over it on stage.  

Baekhyun throws a top at him from the pile on the bed.  “What about that?  Same bottoms.”  Jongdae unfolds it.  It’s a black Alexander Wang tank he forgot he had, with the label name across the front but dripping down almost like a barcode.  “Not bad,” he says.  “Lemme try it on.”  He pulls his soft t-shirt over his head in one swoop and tugs the tank on.  He feels a tuft of hair sticking up so he reaches a hand behind his head to fix it, and Baekhyun groans.

“I hate you, Jongdae,” he says as he flops face-first into the bed.  “How do you have such good arms?”  

Jongdae grins. “Oh, you mean these?”  He flexes.

“Kim Jongdae,” Minseok says, “stop tormenting him.  And honestly…”  He smirks.  “If you weren’t like my little brother, I would be trying to hit on you.”

He flushes.  “So this is a yes, then.”

“YES!” Everyone choruses.

“Okay, but you don’t think it’s too sexy for ‘She’s Dreaming’?”  Minseok scrubs a hand over his face and stands.  

“Sit there,” he says, pointing at his beanbag, and doesn’t even wait for Jongdae before he walks into the closet.  He emerges a minute later and tosses a black button up over.  “Wear that on top of the tank, and take it off during Yeollie’s drum solo.”

“Hyung, you’re a genius,” Jongdae says gratefully.

“I know,” Minseok responds, which earns him a head swat from Junmyeon.

 

***

 

T-1

Yixing fans himself with the bottom of his black tank as he waits in the dressing room with his dancers for their name to be called.  He hates tech rehearsals, because they take forever to figure out the final lighting for each performance, and then there’s always a music problem, and they just take up way too much of his time and cause unnecessary stress.  Thankfully, this new dressing room that Yifan had secured for them is more spacious, so he knows he’s not sweating buckets from excessive body heat like he was two days ago.  He leans against the side of the couch by the door and pulls his right leg into a quad stretch right before he hears voices coming down the hall.

“Aren’t you curious about Jun’s soft heart?” A deep voice says.  

“I just want to meet more people,” says a higher-pitched one.  There’s some unintelligible mumbling and then three voices burst out laughing.  

“So savage, Minseok-hyung,” says the deep voice, chortling.  “Speaking of him, where is our fearless leader?”

“Probably annoying staff with his need to be incredibly early,” says a new, softer voice.  “Too bad, he won’t get to meet Lay Zhang… because that’s apparently who’s taken over our old room.”

“What?” the high voice squeaks.

A deep chuckle rolls out.  “That’s what the card says.”

“Do we knock?  I’m so nervous,” it responds.  There’s a quiet sigh and then three quick raps on the door.

Yixing grins and moves to open it.

“Hi,” he says to the three guys standing in front of him.  “Can I help you?”

The strawberry-blond guy blinks.  The tallest of the three, who might actually rival Yifan in height, smiles, showing perfect teeth.

“Hi!  We just wanted to pop on by our old dressing room and greet whoever our manager switched with.”  He leans on the doorframe, glancing around the room.  “Wow, there are so many people in here!  Baek, look,” he says, nudging the strawberry-blond.  “They were all squished in the room we have now.”

Both the strawberry blond and the shortest of the three, a blond with a round, pretty face, lean in as well.  

“Damn,” the blond whistles, and Yixing is slightly taken aback by the timbre of his voice.  “You make better use of this room than we ever did.”

Yixing smiles in response.  “Yeah, it’s a huge improvement.  Please thank your manager for agreeing to switch.”  He inclines his head in a show of respect.

At that, the strawberry blond seems to spark back to life.  “Oh, please,” he says, “no formalities.  It’s just a dressing room.”  He steps into the room and sticks his hand out.  “I’m Baekhyun.”  

Yixing shakes.  “Yixing,” he answers.

“Ah, are you Chinese?” the blond asks as he nudges Baekhyun out of the way.  “I’m Minseok,” he says as he shakes Yixing’s hand.

“Yeah, I am,” he answers.

“That’s so cool!  And you speak Korean very well!  Oh, and I’m Chanyeol,” the tall redhead says, shaking as well.

“Thank you!  And it’s great to meet you all.”  Yixing shoves his hands in his pockets and grins.  “What do you guys do?”

Chanyeol blinks at him in shock.

Minseok elbows him and he closes his mouth.  “We’re part of EXODUS,” Baekhyun says.  “Our leader and main vocal has chosen to not accompany us on this adventure, so he’s not here, but that’s fine, you’re not missing much.”

Yixing snorts and Minseok smacks Baekhyun.  Chanyeol grins down at the two of them before looking back at Yixing.  “Any chance you can point us to Lay Zhang?  We wanted to thank him for being chill about the whole room-switch thing.”

Yixing just crosses his arms and smirks.  “You sure you want to talk to him?” he says.

Minseok nods.

Yixing grins again.  “Well,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I guess I could get him.  But he’s in the middle of a very interesting conversation with some band members right now.”

The three of them glance around.  Koosung and Junsun are doing couple stretches in the corner by the makeup counter, Sori and Yoojung are walking through something with Eunho, and Alan, Zitao, and Mina are each ensconced in a chair looking at their phones.  Kasper and Luhan had already gone up to the backstage area to talk with the lighting people, and Yixing had seen Yifan slip out of the room twenty minutes earlier, so he’s not worried about them.

Slowly, all three of the people in front of him return their gazes to Yixing after scanning the room.

“My real name is Yixing,” he says, unable to keep the smile off his face, “but my stage name is Lay.”

Baekhyun recovers first.  “Ah, you asshole,” he chuckles, “you really had us going there!”  Minseok slaps his arm, still blinking at Yixing.  “Oh, I’m sorry, we just met and here I am already calling you an asshole.”  He pouts.  “Even though you deserved it.”

Yixing bursts out laughing.  “I did, didn’t I.”

Baekhyun grins.  “Yeah.”

“Ah well,” he responds, still chuckling, “I think we can skip the formalities then.”  He holds out his hand and Baekhyun slaps it, giggling a little.

Chanyeol finally closes his mouth.  “You’re Lay Zhang,” he says, still a little in shock.

Yixing grins at him.  “Sure am.”

Chanyeol blinks once more before questions start falling out of his mouth like a torrential downpour.  “Do you really write your own music?  How long does it take you to finish a song?  When’s your next album coming out?  Have you ever considered doing a full collaboration album?  What’s your favorite type-” Minseok swats him and he shuts up, face going red.

Yixing cracks another smile.  “Yes, it depends, I have no idea, yes, and obviously R&B.”  He grins at Chanyeol.  “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Chanyeol covers his face with his hands.  “I - I just admire your work ethic,” he mutters, and Yixing laughs out loud.

“It takes a lot out of me, that’s for sure,” he answers.

Minseok finally speaks up.  “Out of the three of us, Chanyeol would understand the best,” he says.  “He plays three instruments for us, sings backup, composes, and produces.”

Yixing blinks.  “Really?”

Chanyeol nods, slowly removing his hands from his face.

“What software do you use for production?” He can’t keep the interest out of his voice.

“I used to use Ableton but I switched to Logic Pro last year,” Chanyeol replies.

“Ah, that’s so funny!  I love Logic Pro, I’ve used it forever, but one of my co-producers is trying to get me to change to Avid.”  

“Avid’s too complicated,” says Chanyeol, and Yixing nods emphatically in agreement.

“That’s what I always tell him!”

Chanyeol is grinning now and Baekhyun hops in before he can say something else.

“As much as I hate to break up this lovely bonding,” he says, shooting a glance Chanyeol’s way, “we do have a rehearsal to get to.”

Minseok looks at him.  “Since when have you cared about being on time?”

Baekhyun glares at him.  “Since this is the WMCAs and it’s important to me?”

Minseok meets his gaze for a few more seconds before looking down at his watch and then cursing.

“Baekhyun’s actually right,” he says with a grimace.  “We have to be backstage in three minutes.  Junmyeon’s probably flipping shit right now.”

Yixing grins and herds them out of the room, saying, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your manager.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Baekhyun, grinning at him, “but our fearless leader knows we always make it right in the nick of time.”  He starts jogging down the hall.  “Which is what he’s probably reminding our dear manager of right now.”

Yixing waves.  “Good luck on tech!”

“Same to you!” Chanyeol and Baekhyun shout down the hall.  He sees Minseok shake his head and roll his eyes before he waves at Yixing in return.  The three of them round the corner and their footsteps fade after a minute.

Yixing steps back into the dressing room and closes the door quietly behind him.

Sori shoots him a wink and he shakes his head minutely in return.  He goes back to stretching; their rehearsal slot is supposed to start in half an hour and he wants to make sure he’s ready - he just _knows_ Kasper is going to want to do at least two full runs.

 

~

 

Jongdae mock-glares at his bandmates as they jog up to him, Chanyeol and Baekhyun breathing heavily.  “Look who decided to show up,” he says, winking at Minseok.

Junmyeon whips around from his spot by the stage entrance and heaves a sigh of relief.  

“Did you think we wouldn’t make it?” says Minseok, seeing Junmyeon’s expression.

Their manager rolls his eyes.  “I was slightly concerned.”

“You’re welcome,” Baekhyun says primly.  “If it wasn’t for me Chanyeol would have blabbered on about production technique to Lay for another twenty minutes and we would have been late.”

Jongdae raises his eyebrows.  “Lay?”

“Yeah, Lay Zhang.  Who Junmyeon _conveniently_ forgot to tell us-” Baekhyun glares at Junmyeon “- was the artist we switched dressing rooms with.”  

Junmyeon just shrugs.  “It wasn’t necessary information.”  Jongdae notes the slight pink tinge to his manager’s face and files it away for later interrogation.

“It most certainly was,” responds Baekhyun, putting his hands on his hips.  “You should have told us that a very attractive Chinese R&B star and his troupe of very attractive dancers were going to trade with us!”  

Jongdae perks up at the mention of attractive dancers.  Minseok notices and sidles over to him as Junmyeon and Baekhyun start squabbling.  “Wish you had come with us now, huh,” he mutters, and Jongdae pinches him in retaliation.

The director sticks his head behind the curtain separating the area where they are from the stage.  “We’re finally ready for you,” he calls, and Baekhyun and Junmyeon shut up.

They traipse onstage and head to their respective spots; Chanyeol behind his drumset, Baekhyun at his keyboard, and Minseok to his guitar stand.  Jongdae stands in front, arms crossed, and a second later a tech runs onstage and hands him a mic before dashing off.  He can see Junmyeon’s scowl from here so he smirks before starting his standard pre-set speech.

The sound system squeals in response to his yell of “How are we doing tonight?” and he pauses until the systems people give him the signal.  “We are EXODUS,” he continues, “and tonight we’ve prepared something special for you.”  He smiles directly at where a camera stand is set up.  “Enjoy the show,” he concludes, before winking.

Chanyeol counts them in and Jongdae croons the opening lyrics of “She’s Dreaming” into his mic, backed by Baekhyun’s gentle piano, Minseok strumming his acoustic guitar, Chanyeol’s soft cymbals, and their smooth vocal harmonies.  He slowly makes his way across the stage, pausing at marked camera spots and at places where audience seats are close to the stage, before reaching the central platform and drawing out the final note of the chorus.  Baekhyun goes into his solo, slender hands pulling infinitely complex notes from his keyboard, and finishes off with a gorgeous final chord.

Chanyeol lets them pause for a second before he counts himself in and tears into his drum solo.  Jongdae frowns as the back platforms rise later than they’re supposed to, about halfway through, and wiggles his fingers at Junmyeon to mark it.  Chanyeol crashes his cymbals, Minseok joins in on electric this time, and Jongdae pushes the thought for after they finish the run as he starts in on “Drop That”.  

They end, Jongdae only slightly out of breath from the effort of holding that last note, and the director steps on.  “Good run,” he says, smiling slightly.  “Anything you need?”

“The platforms,” says Jongdae as they start lowering.  “Can you bring them up earlier, at the start of his solo?”  He gestures to Baekhyun.  The director nods.

“Sure.”  He presses a hand to his headset, listens to something, and nods before saying, “Platforms up at the keyboard solo.”  He turns to Minseok.

“The sound people weren’t sure about your levels,” he says, “so they’d like to do a run with just instruments and then a second with vocals.”  Minseok nods.

“You guys cool with that?” he asks as he looks to the other two.  They both nod and the director smiles again.

“That should be it, unless we run into any unforeseen issues.”

Jongdae smiles back at him. “Sounds good, thank you.”  

The director bows and signals the sound staff before hurrying offstage.  Chanyeol counts them in and Jongdae sways as his friends go through the set.  He grins when Minseok nails his jump and takes a moment to shove his hair out of his face before picking right up on his next chord.  They finish and the director doesn’t even come back out, just calls from the side, “Sound says that they have levels set, once more with vocals to make sure!”

Jongdae grins and starts his spiel again.  They breeze through the set and once they’re done the director waves them off.

“That sounded great,” Junmyeon says as they make their way through the stage wing.  “Do that tomorrow and you might just win it.”  Jongdae grins and is about to respond when he spots him.

His hot dancer.

In the middle of a group of people heading their way.  Wearing a black tank top and sweatpants with his hair brushed straight, bangs covering his forehead, and looking delectable as hell.  Jongdae’s eyes are glued to his fucking stunning bare arms, and he realizes that after a second so he wrenches his gaze away only to have his eyes catch on movement.  The dancer nods at something another dancer says to him and then stretches his arms across his chest, causing his back muscles and pecs to ripple (God, _God_ is Jongdae fucked) before following his group towards the stage.  Jongdae watches him go until he disappears from his peripheral.

Minseok nudges him.  Junmyeon is looking down at his phone, smiling as he types, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun are chatting excitedly to each other.  Jongdae looks at his best friend.

Minseok just smirks.  “Bet you really regret coming backstage early now,” he says.

Jongdae gapes at him.  “He was there?  He’s part of Lay Zhang’s dance crew?” he hisses.

Minseok’s smile grows.  “For sure.”

Jongdae groans quietly.

 

***

 

T-0

Yixing straightens his suit jacket for what feels like the hundredth time as Zitao circles him.  “Stop fidgeting, ge,” he says, and Yixing drops his hands.  “You’re making me nervous and I never get nervous.”  Yifan muffles a snort at that.

“You look great, if I do say so myself,” he continues, stopping in front of him.

Yixing grins.  “When do I not?”  Zitao smacks his arm before Luhan can.  Yifan saunters over and the four of them group hug.  

“We all look fabulous,” Luhan starts, “and I’m thankful that you two are here to support this airhead.” He nudges Yixing with his elbow.  Yixing nudges him back before taking up the thread.

“Honestly, guys,” he says, looking at Yifan and Zitao, “thank you for coming.  It really does mean a lot to me.  And…” he pauses for a moment and looks at Luhan.  “I know we argue a bunch but I really would be nothing if it weren’t for my fabulous manager and friend.”

Luhan ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“We’re proud of you, Yixing,” Yifan rumbles, grinning at them.  “No matter what.”

“Friends for life,” proclaims Zitao, and the four of them clutch each other tighter before breaking out into laughter.

Luhan’s phone pings and he pulls it out of his breast pocket.  “Our ride’s here,” he says.  “Let’s go rock this awards show.”

 

~

 

“You did not,” Baekhyun gasps.

“Best.  Manager.  Ever,” breathes Chanyeol.

The black stretch limo sits in front of Jongdae’s house, waiting for the five of them.  Junmyeon grins.

“Only the best for the best,” he says.

Minseok elbows him halfheartedly.

Jongdae blinks twice and takes a deep breath before looping his arm through Baekhyun’s.  “Come on, band,” he says, letting a huge grin slide onto his face, “let’s go fucking kill it.”

 

~

 

The driver pulls up to the edge of the red carpet.  Luhan hands him a wad of bills and motions for Yifan to get out, as he’s closest to the door.  Yixing takes a deep breath as Yifan unfolds his long body and waits for Zitao to do so as well.  Cameras are already flashing as Luhan joins them, then looks back at him.  He smirks and gets out, closing the door behind him.

The paparazzi explode.

The four of them head down the carpet, making heads turn along the way.  Flashes and screaming tabloid reporters follow them.  They reach the section reserved for the real press and Luhan grabs Yixing’s elbow, letting Yifan and Zitao take questions first.  They finish and the two of them step forward.  Cameras are everywhere, and Yixing smolders for them.  Luhan steps away to answer a question from a Chinese reporter, and Yixing smiles slightly, redoubling the flashes of photographers.  He slowly turns, hands in his pockets, trying to look directly into every camera he sees, when he notices that quite a number of them have started jogging back to the start of the carpet.  He looks over, giving the remaining cameras his profile, but he can’t see the newest arrival.  

The yell of a tabloid reporter reaches his ears.  “EXODUS!” The woman cries, jogging alongside a photographer, “are the breakup rumors true?”  Yixing freezes for a second before relaxing his body so his photos come out natural-looking.  

“They most certainly are not,” a somewhat-familiar voice snaps.  “EXODUS is going nowhere.  Write that down as your headline.”  For the life of him he can’t place the voice until the band appears at the edge of the press space.

Yixing is rooted to the spot, staring.  For there, sandwiched between his three new friends from yesterday, looking like a gorgeous rock god in his all-black leather jacket and ripped jeans ensemble, is his hot guy.  The guy he ran into a week ago, the guy he had offered dance lessons to, the guy whose kitty lips and sensual smirk and soul-piercing gaze he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.  That guy, who is also apparently the leader and main vocalist of EXODUS.  His biggest competition for the big three awards.

 

~

 

Jongdae can’t even blink.  He’s too stunned by the vision of a man in front of him.  His hot dancer, looking absolutely impeccable in a perfectly-tailored black suit with a jewel-encrusted brooch on his left lapel, hair swept up off his forehead and shaved at the sides.  What causes him to blink, however, is Baekhyun’s squeal of excitement followed by “Lay-ssi!”

Baekhyun leaves Chanyeol’s side and bounces in front of them.  “Long time no see,” he jokingly says, and Lay turns his gaze to him and grins.  His smile lights up his entire face, giving Jongdae another glimpse of that gorgeous dimple, and then he slaps hands with Baekhyun in greeting.  The reporters erupt.

“Lay Zhang!  EXODUS!  Since when are you friends?”

“When did you meet?”

“Are you collaborating on a new song?”

“Will your rivalry at the award show affect your friendship?”

“Are you actually friends or is this just a show of sportsmanship?”

The questions blur together in Jongdae’s ears as Chanyeol, then Minseok, both step up and casually greet him.  Lay Zhang.  The guy he ran into a week ago.  The guy he had ogled in the break room who was getting refreshments for his dancers.  The guy who has the most stunning body and full lips and a dark, sensuous gaze that Jongdae hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

That guy, who is actually Lay Zhang.  His biggest competition for the big three awards.

He refocuses as Minseok waves him forward.  Lay’s brown eyes simmer with something, he’s not quite sure what, as he steps up to rejoin his band members.

“These three,” he says quietly, gesturing to his band, “I met yesterday when they stopped by to thank me for being cool with the whole ‘room-switch thing’.”  He smiles.  “But you, I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing.”  The timbre of his voice sends tingles down Jongdae’s spine, and he’s pretty positive he did not miss that double entendre.

“Chen,” he says, extending his hand.  “Leader and main vocalist of EXODUS.”  Lay takes it and they shake briefly, semi-hidden by Chanyeol as he towers over Minseok and Baekhyun for the press.  Lay’s hands are warm, calloused, and Jongdae remembers those long fingers wrapping around his arm to yank him upright.  A thought of how those long, calloused fingers would feel wrapped around his dick flashes through his mind and he quickly lets go of Lay’s hand.

“I’m Lay,” he says, and Jongdae briefly smirks at him before he steps away to stand next to Minseok.  He sees Lay move next to Baekhyun for a few shots before he straightens.  “I’ve taken enough of your press time,” he says, grinning again.  The photographers burst out in protest.

“Wait!  Lay!  A photo of you and Chen!” A few of them call out.

Minseok grabs Chanyeol and Baekhyun and yanks them away before Jongdae has a chance to protest.

Lay slides next to him.  “Just so you know,” he murmurs, low enough that the press won’t hear, “you’re going down in the performance vote.”  His breath brushes Jongdae’s ear and causes a slight swooping sensation in his stomach at the same time as his pride rises.

He throws an arm around Lay’s shoulders and gives the cameras his standard thumbs-up before leaning in.  “I don’t know,” he purrs, “I kind of like the idea of you going down.”  He feels Lay tense under his arm as he pulls away.  “See you inside,” he says, smirking, as he removes his arm and walks over to his band members.

He’s not sure what Lay does, because the fact that Minseok had _met_ him yesterday and teased him at tech catches up with him and suddenly he can only see red.  Once they get past the rest of the press and make it inside, Jongdae catches his wrist and jerks him away from the group.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he hisses murderously.  Minseok looks slightly surprised.  “You _asshole_ , Minseok!  Why didn’t you tell me?”

Minseok tugs his arm away from Jongdae.  “Because I figured you’d find out during his performance,” he whispers back, “not on the red carpet in front of cameras and reporters!”

“Still!”  Jongdae can’t keep the venom out of his voice.  “You could have told me!”

“Yeah, well…” Minseok grins evilly.  “I wanted to see your reaction.”

Jongdae hits him.  Not very gently.

“Ah, come on, Jongdae-ah,” he says, rubbing his arm where Jongdae had smacked him.  “You would have done the same thing if it was me.”

Jongdae turns this over in his brain.  He’s not wrong.  But still.

“Besides,” Minseok continues, “I figured you wanted your love life to be a private thing.  Imagine if you had told Chanyeol or Baekhyun instead of me.”

Jongdae sighs.  “You’re right.  Sorry for overreacting.”  He grimaces.  “I don’t forgive you, though.”  He leans into Minseok as he says it, taking the sting out of his words.

Minseok rubs the back of his neck comfortingly and Jongdae relaxes into the touch.  “I wouldn't expect it, especially from a stubborn thing like you.”

“Hey!”  Jongdae swats him and Minseok swats him back, and then they both burst into laughter.  “Let’s go find our seats, hyung,” Jongdae says, smiling.

“Okay.” Minseok grins back.

They find their seats - and their bandmates - relatively quickly, and soon they’re making small talk and laughing with the trio sitting with them (fanxychild, Jongdae remembers they’re called, he’s heard some of their music on the radio before and he likes their sound) as well as the girl group named Red Velvet sitting at the table behind them.  They’re so involved in their conversations that everyone jumps when the lights dim and the show begins.

Most of the behind-the-scenes awards go first, and Jongdae claps automatically whenever a winner is announced.  The first couple performances are also nothing special, one female pop singer who just stands there singing a plain ballad and another too-happy boy band who just jump around the stage doing nothing.  The first big award of the night is Best Female Performance, which goes to Ailee, to no one’s surprise.  Jongdae claps for her, but is very surprised when she doesn’t win Best Female Song - that goes instead to a group called f(x).  The Red Velvet girls behind them cheer very loudly, and Chanyeol turns around to ask them why.  One of them leans forward and says, “They’re under the same label as us.”  Another one chimes in, “They’re basically like our older sisters.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol says, and the show goes on.  They’re in the genre categories now, and Jongdae pays slightly more attention.  LR win Best Duo, a girl called Indila wins Best Pop Female, Lay Zhang wins Best R&B Artist.  Jongdae watches as he climbs the steps and accepts his award.  His speech is eloquent, short and to the point, and when he repeats it in Chinese Jongdae thinks he might just melt in his seat.  The language sounds beautiful rolling off his tongue, better even than Korean.  He’s still in a semi-stupor when the presenters read out the next award.

“EXODUS!” rings through his head and he realizes it’s for Best Rock Group.  The tables around him explode.  He stands and grins at his band members before they all walk up to the stage.  Jongdae accepts the award from one of the presenters, a pretty Albanian girl whose name he thinks is Era, and steps up to the mic.

“Wow,” he starts, holding the award.  “I honestly can say we never expected to win a WMCA.”  He pauses to let the cheering die down.  “We would like to thank our wonderful manager for all his hard work and for taking care of us, as well as our agent, our label, and our team for giving us the chance to be EXODUS and produce our music.  And,” he pauses again, “we would like to thank the World Music Committee for recognizing us with this award.”  He holds it up again.  “And of course, the fans.”  The fan sections in the upper ring of seats explode with cheers.  “Your love got us here, and we could never thank you enough.  We appreciate you and your love for us and our music.  EXODUS will continue to strive to be better and work harder and give you our best music yet.  Thank you so much!”  He steps away from the mic and Baekhyun slaps him on the back before leaning in.

“Way to leave something for the rest of us to say, Chen,” he says, and is rewarded with ringing laughter.  “But seriously, everything he said.  Thank you to everyone.  We love you all!”  Everyone cheers again and they head back to their seats.  Another award gets announced, a group called The Band Perry for Best Country Group, and then a performance is announced but Jongdae misses the name of the act.  

He sits up as slow, haunting music floats through the hall, and then two shadowy figures appear, one from each side of the stage.  They flow across, meeting in the middle, and circle each other, their bodies occupying the free space made by the other.  It has a stunning effect, and Jongdae hears Minseok breathe in.

The music changes, becoming more techno, and the duo’s movements become sharper, and then they unravel themselves from each other, straighten up, and begin to rap.

He recognizes them now, he knows that Sehun and Jongin are the two standing on stage, but this is so unlike their playful personalities.  Their tone is so powerful, so strong, and so intense that Jongdae is sucked into their set.  When they finish and the announcer yells, “SeKai!” over all the cheers, he understands why they have such a huge fanbase even though they’ve only been on the music scene for about a year.  He’s never seen them live before, despite the fact that he’s known Sehun and Jongin for three years now, and their music videos are never the full dance routine, so the amount of power and sensuality they had was a surprise.  He’s not surprised, now, after that performance, that they're up for the most prestigious awards.

The next award, for Best Rap Song, is also a surprise.  Jongdae fully expects SeKai to take it, but the presenter reads out “fanxychild - Bermuda Triangle!”  He and the rest of the band clap them on the back and cheer very loudly as the three of them get up from their table and go up to the stage, looking slightly in shock.  They give their speech, Jongdae screams very loudly in support, and the show continues.

Ailee’s performance comes after the announcement that she’s won Best Ballad, and Jongdae is again shaken by how strong her voice is.  Her performance is all power, solid notes and soaring vocals, and he glances at Chanyeol, who’s surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye.

Lay Zhang goes up twice more, first to accept Best R&B Song and then with LR for Best Collaboration.  “I didn't know they had collabed,” Jongdae says to Minseok as Ravi begins his thank-you speech.

Chanyeol hears him and leans forward.  “How?  I play that song all the time.”

“Which one?” Jongdae asks.

“Promise Me Paradise.”

He shrugs.  “I can't place it.”

Chanyeol looks slightly affronted.  “I’ll play it for you later,” he says.

Jongdae nods and turns back to the stage.  Leo finishes up, his quiet voice barely amplified by the mic, and Lay steps forward.  “I’m just repeating them,” he says, grinning.  “But really, thank you to everyone who loved and supported this song from the beginning.  We worked on it for quite some time and I'm so thankful that the WMC liked it enough to recognize it with this award.”  He pauses to smile again, and even from this distance Jongdae can see his dimple.  “Who knows,” he continues, “maybe my friends and I will collaborate again.  Musician friendships produce the best collabs, don't you think?  Thank you!”  He waves and the three of them walk offstage amidst the screams of the fans.

Minseok catches Jongdae’s eye and winks, the bastard.  Jongdae discreetly flips him off.

They head up to the stage a few minutes later for Best Rock Song, and Jongdae lets Chanyeol and Baekhyun talk, drawing laughs from the crowd with their antics.  Minseok finally pulls them both away from the mic after about five minutes, yelling “Thank you!  We love you!” as he shoves them offstage to the loudest laughs and cheers yet.

KARD performs after that, and Jongdae can’t help but admire their synchronization and blend of vocals despite the little mistakes he spots.  They're the first co-ed group he’s seen in quite a while be this successful, and they're still young, so they have lots of time to improve.  A couple more awards get announced, with their entire table cheering when Red Velvet get named Best Girl Group, and then the announcer says that they're ready to announce Best Music Video.  Jongdae sits up straight.

The reel of nominees plays, and he’s shocked by the artistry present in the clip of Lay Zhang’s nominated video.  Every clip is very well put together, clearly showing the best parts of each video, but then the reel fades and the presenters step forward.  “And the winner of Best Music Video is…”  The male presenter, an actor Jongdae half recognizes from the last Star Trek movie, rips open the envelope.  “Lay Zhang for Lose Control!”

The entire building explodes with noise.  Jongdae claps along with the rest of his table.  The bit of video he had seen was deserving, he’ll admit that.  He glances at his band and sees the flash of disappointment in Baekhyun’s eyes, so he leans over the table.

“We still have album and the performance, okay?  I know we're gonna kill it.”  Baekhyun quickly grasps his hand in a silent thank you.

A couple more awards get announced, and then LR gets back on stage for their performance.  They do their hit “Beautiful Liar”, and the contrast between Leo’s soft vocals and Ravi’s strong rap as well as the piano beneath the beats creates this gorgeous sound, somehow everything meshing together in harmony.  Jongdae can appreciate this, the balance of opposites, the yin and yang coming together to form a whole.  

After they finish, more awards for the contemporary, classical, indie, and alternative genres are announced, as well as some others, and Jongdae kind of zones out as he doesn't recognize any of the named artists.  He perks up as they announce the world genre winners, but slumps back in his chair when the Belgian DJ he likes doesn’t win for Best World Album Production.  The winners leave the stage and the announcer booms, “And now, a performance that the WMC is proud to present. Here to perform his WMCA-winning single “Lose Control”, Lay Zhang and 1Million dance crew!”

Jongdae sits up as the stage goes dark.  He sees figures come on and get in position, and then the music starts with a twinkle of chimes and the lights flicker on and Lay starts to sing.

Jongdae gapes at the stage.  Lay’s voice is a pure tenor, and it makes the Chinese lyrics sound smooth as silk, smooth as the red silk shirt he's wearing with black pants and dress shoes. His hair is still swept off his face and Jongdae feels his breath catch at how absolutely stunning this man is.  He walks forward as he continues to sing the opening lines, and then he hits the stride of the verse and begins to dance and Jongdae just loses any ability he has left to think clearly.

Not only does Lay have a voice like silk, he _moves_ like silk, every part of him flowing and smooth yet strong.  His voice doesn't even waver as he spins and starts the chorus, crooning “baby no no” and then fucking rolling his hips like nobody’s business as he sings “yi zhi lose control”.  Jongdae can’t goddamn breathe.  His eyes are glued to Lay, and the sinful way he moves is a hundred times better than anything he had previously imagined.  His voice is devastating, giving the lyrics so much sensuality that even though Jongdae doesn't speak a lick of Chinese he knows that Lay is singing about love and sex and losing himself in someone else.  The combination of that body imbibing those fucking amazing dance moves with so much power and masculinity and his striking looks and his gorgeous voice - he hits a high note and fucking rips his shirt open and the breath whooshes out of Jongdae’s lungs as the fan sections scream.

The image of Lay’s eight-pack abs framed by red silk and glistening slightly with sweat sears itself into his brain and he swears his dick jumps in his pants.  Lay thrusts his hips again, this time in quick succession with a hand over his crotch, and Jongdae has to physically clutch at his chest his heart is pounding that fast.  This - this is not fucking okay.  He croons another “oh babe” and then says, in a low tone that has Jongdae swearing under his breath, “I just wanna have you babe,” before ending with a sweetly sung “lose control”.

Jongdae quietly gasps for air as the entire crowd bursts into applause.  He’s gonna lose control all right.  He gulps, trying to get his body back under his power before anyone notices, but Minseok is too keen-eyed for that.  He lays a hand on Jongdae’s arm and leans over.  “Use Drop That to get back at him,” he says, and glances significantly at him before sitting back in his chair.  Jongdae swallows and nods slightly.  

His brain is still blank so he misses the next couple of awards, but somehow the words “Best Hip-Hop Album” penetrate his fog and he knows that after the presenters finish, it's time for them to go and prepare for their performance, so Jongdae motions to his members and the four of them stand to slink to the backstage area.  fanxychild and Red Velvet whisper their good lucks and they wave and murmur their thank yous before they are ushered backstage by a harried-looking staff member.

They change quickly in their waiting room, and once they’re all done Jongdae looks around at them.  A grin makes its way onto his face.

“Damn,” Baekhyun says, “we are one good-looking band.”  The four of them crack up before coming together into their standard pre-show hug.

“We’re going to kill this,” says Jongdae.  “Chanyeol gave us this bomb arrangement and we’ve all worked our asses off to make it perfect.”

“Damn straight,” adds Minseok.  “You guys are honestly the best dongsaengs ever.  You're all so talented and I, for one, feel honored to share the stage with you.”

“You're gonna make me cry, hyung,” sniffles Chanyeol.  

Baekhyun smacks his stomach.  “Do _not_ ruin your eyeliner.  I worked hard on that.”  

Chanyeol smirks at him.  “I won't, I won’t. But I do agree with everything Minseok said.  You guys are the best band ever.”

Baekhyun grins and continues.  “Seriously, you guys are my best friends.  And being in this band has made my life so much better.”

Jongdae blinks away the growing wetness in his eyes as he smiles at his friends.  “Since when are we sentimental?”  He meets every one of their gazes. “You guys are my best friends in the world.  And you and this band mean everything to me.  We’ve all pushed ourselves so hard to get to this point.  And we fucking made it.”  A tear leaks out before he can stop it.  “So I know that we, the mega-talented EXODUS, are gonna go destroy that stage right now.  Because we can.”  He sticks his hand in the center of their circle.  Minseok lays his hand on top of his, then Baekhyun, then Chanyeol.

“EXODUS, fighting!” they yell together, and Jongdae tucks the happiness of that moment into his heart to keep forever.

 

~

 

Yixing shifts in his seat as the behind-the-scenes awards continue.  As a producer himself, he knows how much work goes into making a song and an album, but the awards seem endless.  He can’t see where EXODUS is sitting, but he got lucky enough to be seated with Taekwoon and Wonsik with Sehun and Jongin at the table next to them.  The encounter with Chen and the rest of his band on the red carpet had pulled his focus away from his upcoming performance and onto Chen’s feline smirk, and he honestly isn't listening to the awards anymore as he thinks about Chen’s lithe hand in his earlier, and how those thin, long fingers would feel skating up his back, how those deep brown eyes would twinkle up at him, how that mouth would curl as he thrust - Taekwoon coughs slightly and Yixing pulls himself out of his fantasy before he turns himself on too much.

The cheers are much louder now, and he glances toward the stage to see Ailee gracefully ascending the steps to accept something.  He turns to Taekwoon.  “What did she just win?”

“Female Performance,” his friend replies, before shooting him a questioning look.  Yixing’s known Taekwoon for a while, so he knows what he means with said look.  (It took him a year and a half of Wonsik interpreting and then working in the studio with them for a month straight to finally become fluent in Taekwoon-looks, as Wonsik called them, because Jung Taekwoon was a man of few words.  Why waste your breath when the people who knew him well could know what he meant with just one glance?)

He grins in response.  “Distracted.”  Taekwoon hums and gives him a small smile before turning back to watch.  Ailee finally finishes talking and the presenters for the next award come out as she’s retaking her seat.  Yixing is slightly surprised when they call out f(x) instead of her for Best Female Song, but Sehun and Jongin burst into applause and cheers.  He glances at them.  Jongin is watching one of the four girls very closely, so he nudges Sehun and tilts his head in Jongin’s direction.

Sehun smirks.  “He’s got a crush, hyung.  They're under our label too.”  

“Ah,” Yixing answers, grinning.  He’ll rib Jongin about this at the after-party.

The genre awards are in full swing now, and Yixing stands and hugs both Taekwoon and Wonsik when LR is announced as Best Duo.  He grins at them when they return, claps for the small French girl who wins Best Pop Female, and then he sits back and waits.

His name gets called, as expected, for Best R&B Artist, and he stands, accepts Wonsik and Taekwoon’s hugs, straightens his suit jacket, and heads to the stage.  He shakes hands with the presenter, an actress that he thinks is on some American TV show about secret agents, and steps up to the mic.  “Thank you so much for this,” he begins.  “This is the top award in the music industry, and to have one now means the absolute world to me.  I would like to thank the Committee, my wonderful manager, my team, and every single one of my friends who have supported me on this journey of music.  And I would especially like to thank my fan base, without whom none of this would be possible.  Thank you, I love you all.”  He repeats himself in his native language, adding that he thanks his country for giving him the opportunity to represent them on the world music stage, and bows as he steps back from the mic before walking back to his seat.  

He barely has a chance to sit down before the next set of presenters are onstage, calling out that the winner of Best Rock Group is EXODUS.  He blinks and watches the four of them make their way up to the stage.  The pretty blonde presenter hands Chen the award, and when he leans into the mic Yixing inhales sharply.  His voice floats out over the audience as he begins to speak, and Yixing closes his eyes to listen.  Chen sounds happy; his voice swoops through his thank yous and he can't help but admire the thought behind his words.  He opens his eyes as Chen shouts “Thank you so much!” and smiles as Baekhyun hits him before taking his turn at the mic.  He snorts at his joke and watches them leave, but loses sight of the four of them after they turn away from his side of the seating and walk behind a camera setup.

Another award gets announced, some country group, and then the announcer calls out SeKai for their performance.  Yixing snaps to attention as their music starts.

Sehun and Jongin nail the choreography that he, Kasper, Junsun, and Jongin himself had created together, and when they start rapping with all the power and strength that he knew they had, he can’t help his grin.  They're his favorite hoobaes, even though he doesn't get to see them as often as he wants to.  As they finish and the place erupts into cheers, he thanks his lucky stars that they didn’t pick the same genre of music.  He’s not sure who would come out on top if they had.

They disappear offstage and Yixing is only slightly surprised when fanxychild ends up winning Best Rap Song - they wouldn't have put that award right after SeKai’s performance if they were going to win it, but he had still hoped.  Ailee comes up again for Best Ballad, but then she stays on stage and launches right into her performance of the song that won.  Her soaring vocals tug at Yixing’s heart, and he sees tears drip down Wonsik’s face as she finishes.  He rolls his eyes fondly - Wonsik presents as a tough guy but is actually the softest person he knows.  

He gets called up again for Best R&B Song, so he changes around the wording of his thank you speech and no one seems to notice.  A couple more awards get given out, Best Indie Pop to an American singer called Banks, Best Male Performance to a British guy Yixing thinks is called Sam Smith (he zones out again, thinking about possible chords for the new song he's working on, so he misses a few details), and then Taekwoon nudges him.  He blinks and realizes they’ve won for Best Collaboration.  He lets the two of them talk first, smiling proudly, and when Taekwoon finishes he steps up.

“I’m just repeating them,” he starts, unable to keep the smile off his face.  “But really, thank you to everyone who loved and supported this song from the beginning.  We worked on it for quite some time and I’m so thankful that the WMC likes it enough to recognize it with this award.”  He pauses and an evil thought pops into his head.  He grins again, knowing that fansites and tabloids will eat his next sentence up.  “Who knows, maybe my friends and I will collaborate again.  Musician friendships produce the best collabs, don't you think?”  He winks at Taekwoon and Wonsik before calling “Thank you!” and heading offstage back to their table.

Wonsik butts his shoulder.  “I can't believe you said that, hyung,” he comments.  

Yixing just grins.  “A little something for speculation.”  Taekwoon rolls his eyes at that and folds himself back into his seat, but Yixing sees the corners of his mouth turn up and settles into his own seat, satisfied.

A couple more awards get given out and Yixing doesn't really recognize any of the recipients, but then EXODUS gets called up again for Best Rock Song and he leans slightly forward, eyes laser-focused on Chen.  He sits back when Chanyeol and Baekhyun approach the mic, but he can't help laughing at each of their antics during the other’s speech - Baekhyun mouthing along to Chanyeol with exaggerated hand gestures, and then Chanyeol acting out scenarios with the award behind Baekhyun, and he actually doubles over, laughing so hard he wheezes, when Minseok yanks them away from the stage like badly behaved dogs.

He’s reasonably impressed with KARD’s performance, as they're a new co-ed group that is very well managed, but they're still young and inexperienced - he can pick out moments where their dance moves could be better matched to the music and their harmonies just a little tighter.  A few more awards get given out (he turns to see Sehun’s eyes glazed over this time when another group from their label, Red Velvet, wins Best Girl Group, so he mutters, “Crush in this group, huh?” and is rewarded with a halfhearted slap on his arm and a flush stealing up Sehun’s cheeks) and then the announcer says “Best Music Video” and he straightens.

The nominee reel plays, and he’s actually impressed with all of the clips shown, but the blue wash shot of EXODUS with Chen in profile looking pensive sticks with him.  The video fades and he waits, holding his breath, as the presenters open the envelope.  “Lay Zhang with Lose Control!” the male presenter says, and he blinks in shock for a second before Taekwoon is pulling his chair back.

He stands amid thunderous applause and walks up to accept the award.  This time his speech is longer, as he thanks his music video director, producer, and editor, his dancers, the entire production crew, and the rest of the usual suspects.  When he gets back to his table, flush with success, Taekwoon and Wonsik have disappeared, but he can't keep the grin off his face through the next few awards.

LR’s performance gets announced, and he whoops along with the fans when they start playing “Beautiful Liar”.  It’s his favorite song of theirs, the oppositions concept woven so completely through it that it's striking.  Their performance is simple, but fits the song so well that Yixing gives them a standing ovation when they finish.

More awards are given out, in categories and genres he doesn't really care about, and when Taekwoon and Wonsik reappear he congratulates them on a stunning performance.  The winner for Best Alternative Group is announced, a British-American band called Bastille, and that’s Yixing’s cue to leave.  He stands silently, accepts his friends’ whispered good luck wishes from both tables, and heads backstage.

A staff member leads his to his dressing room, where Zitao is already waiting with a garment bag.  He shoves it into Yixing’s arms and points to the bathroom.  “I’ll touch up your hair after you change,” he says, and Yixing shoots him a thumbs-up before he closes the door.  He shucks his suit and pulls on the different pair of black dress pants, made of some stretchy material that Yifan always uses for his pants because it never rips (unfortunately, they have learned from experience), and then pulls out the silk shirt.  He lets out a breath when he sees it.  Yifan and Zitao had outdone themselves with the color - a deep, bright red silk, clearly hand-dyed.  He slips the shirt on, looks in the mirror, and grins.  The red pulls on the black of his hair, making it look extra dark, and pops against his skin.  He moves his arms up and down, then body rolls experimentally and grins again at the results.  The shirt follows his movements like water.  The audience won't know what hit them.  

He walks out of the bathroom and Yifan thrusts a pair of shoes at him.  “Put those on while Tao does your hair,” he says, and Yixing obeys.  Zitao’s hands run through his hair once, twice, and then as soon as he finishes lacing his shoes his face is being forced back while Yifan attacks his eyes with a black liner pencil.

He blinks away the tears once Yifan lets go of his face and then does a slight double take at his reflection.  He looks damn good, if he admits it to himself.

Zitao grins. “Our work here is done.”

“Thank you,” Yixing says ardently, and then Kasper sticks his head in the dressing room and waves him out.

He meets the rest of his crew backstage, and they all greet him quietly.  Eunho smirks at him.  “Don’t forget what I told you about the hip thrust,” he says, winking.  

Junsun smacks him and Mina lets out a giggle.  “Body roll like you mean it, everyone,” she adds, and everyone cracks a smile at that.  Yixing waves them all into a huddle.

“Before we go out there,” he says, “I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you guys.  You’re the best crew I’ve ever worked with.”

“We’re the _only_ crew you’ve ever worked with,” says Sori, grinning evilly.  

“True,” he says, smirking at her in response.  “But still.  You are all talented, amazing dancers, and I wouldn't be here without you.  So let’s go give them the performance of a lifetime.”  He looks around the circle, letting his love for them shine through, before putting his hand in the center.  Everyone quickly follows through, and together they chant “3, 2, 1Million fighting!” before the tech waves them out.

Yixing adjusts his headset mic as he watches everyone take their places in the dark, and then the music starts and any worries he had before this are wiped away as he starts to sing.

The performance goes spectacularly.  He still doesn't know where Chen and the other EXODUS members are sitting, but those kitty lips and high cheekbones are all he can see in his mind’s eye as he serenades the audience with the chorus.  Chen’s body in that leather jacket and ripped jeans is all he thinks of as he body rolls, grinds, and hip thrusts his way through the routine, his muscle memory guiding him the rest of the time.  He rips open his shirt (the reason for the snap fastenings) at his high note during the last chorus, and he registers the screaming fans but the only image his brain is conjuring is him ripping open the red button up Chen had on when they saw each other in the break room earlier that week.

He does the last hip thrusts, which renew the screams, and then he throws caution to the wind and murmurs the spoken lines into his mic, his voice filled with lust, before finishing with the last “lose control”.  The entire place starts applauding, and Yixing bows in gratitude before following his dancers offstage.  They all high-five each other, grins huge, before Yixing remembers he’s got the rest of an awards show to get through.  He quickly pulls his shirt closed and snaps all the fastenings before returning to his table with a parting wave to his crew.

Sehun turns around and hits his arm when he slides back into his seat.  “And I thought Jongin had a bad case of sex eyes when he dances,” he mumbles.  Yixing casually flips him off as a response.

A few more awards happen and he starts leaning back to mutter comments to Sehun and Jongin about the winners’ fashion sense, and they trade quips for a while until the announcer calls for the final performance of the night.  “The World Music Committee is proud to present our final performance,” he booms.  “New two-time WMC Award winners and the biggest rock group in the world, here are EXODUS!”  Yixing feels the building shake with the force of the cheers emanating from everyone in attendance, and then he looks at the stage and blinks as Chen leads the four of them on, now in a plain black button up and his ripped jeans.  Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Minseok, all changed into louder performance outfits (Chanyeol has a yellow and black plaid shirt over a black tee, Baekhyun in a giant orange hoodie and multicolored tee, and Minseok in a beige tunic and what looks like a green leather jacket, all three of them wearing various shades of ripped blue denim) jog over to their respective instruments and Chen stops at the center of the stage before raising his mic.

“Chen!” he yells, followed by Baekhyun shouting his name, then Minseok, who confuses Yixing when he yells “Xiumin!” before he realizes it's a stage name, then Chanyeol, and then the four of them scream “WE ARE EXODUS!” along with most of the fans in the upper sections.  Chen waits for the screaming to die down before he yells, “How are we doing tonight?” The fan sections explode again, and Yixing can see many of his fellow musicians along the front tables grinning and cheering as well.

“We’ve prepared something extra special for you guys tonight,” Chen says, his eyes sweeping the crowd and suddenly stopping on Yixing.  He swallows and meets his gaze.

Chen grins, his kitty lips curling upwards.  “So we hope you enjoy the show,” he purrs, and winks directly at Yixing, who feels his heart stop before resuming at double time.

Chanyeol counts them in, and the music starts, much slower than Yixing expected.  He notices that Minseok is strumming an acoustic guitar, the electric still on its stand, and Baekhyun is pulling a soft melody out of his keyboard.  Chen opens his mouth and starts singing and Yixing knows he’s a fucking goner.

Chen’s voice is absolutely electric, hitting the lower notes with perfect precision while still sounding sweet and loving.  He starts walking across the stage, pausing every so often to serenade a girl group table or a camera, and his voice swoops along the octaves effortlessly, capturing Yixing’s full attention.  He hits the first notes of the chorus, and suddenly there are harmonies and backing vocals, and Yixing is shocked to see the other three all have headset mics on.  Chen’s voice soars to a clear, stunning note, and then he begins the second verse back in his lower register and Yixing’s entire body becomes attuned to his voice again.  They enter a bridge, and the harmonies the four of them produce are perfect, Chen now in an octave Yixing’s pretty sure he’s never even dreamed of hitting.  He extends his last, pure high note for a while, cutting it off only when the echo of piano is the only sound remaining.  The two notes reverberate for a second, the sound ringing in the silence, and then Chen lowers his mic and Baekhyun launches himself into a keyboard piano solo.

Yixing thinks his mouth drops open at the complex melodies Baekhyun is weaving together seamlessly and then he knows it drops open as the three and their instruments begin to rise.  Baekhyun plays a last chord and the platforms stop, his equal in height with Minseok’s and Chanyeol’s slightly higher between the two.  Chanyeol counts himself in and starts his drum solo.  His playing is frenetic, powerful, impressive, and a slight movement pulls Yixing’s eye away from him.  It’s Chen, little more than a figure moving in the shadows, unbuttoning his shirt, sliding his arms out, and tossing it offstage.  Chanyeol crashes his cymbals and then starts up a beat, electric guitar chords joining in a second later, then the keyboard picking up a melody.  As soon as Minseok and Baekhyun hit their first note in unison, the fan sections roar.  Chen steps back into the light and starts a new verse, words flying out of his mouth in his lower register, and Yixing probably would have melted at the husk in his tone if he wasn’t frozen to the spot at the sight of Chen illuminated in a black tank top.  He had been hiding magnificently toned arms under every long sleeve he had worn, and the gleam of sweat on his skin has Yixing’s mouth going very dry.  The four of them start up a chant, “I say EX-O you say DUS!  EX-O!  DUS!  EX-O!  DUS!”  The fans join in immediately, along with a fair amount of the invited musicians, and Yixing can’t take his eyes off Chen and his rippling biceps that show themselves whenever he lifts his mic.

Chanyeol screams “EX-O DROP THAT!” and Minseok breaks into the wildest guitar solo Yixing’s seen in a long time.  His eyes dart between Minseok shredding his guitar and Chen jumping around, hyping up the crowd.  Minseok hits a chord, does a huge jump off his platform, and hits another chord, and it seems like everyone in the building screams their approval.  Chen reaches the middle of the stage and the section that he's on begins rising as well, right as he breaks into the bridge, showcasing his huge vocal range.  Yixing is sort of in shock.  Chen nails a giant falsetto note, veins in his neck standing out with the effort, holding his mic in such a way that his biceps are very prominent.  Everything about this performance is destroying Yixing, slowly shredding his brain until the only thing left is Chen and his voice and his muscles and how much Yixing wants to touch him.

He cuts off the note and walks around his raised mini stage, hyping everyone up again, until he meets Yixing’s gaze again and stops there.  He sings the bridge again, the last line a little slower, and locks his eyes onto Yixing's as he drops to his knees and pulls a note from his throat that shouldn't be possible.  He leans back, breaking their eye contact but stretching out the note, and finally ends it with his mic thrust in the air and a crash of Chanyeol’s cymbals.  Yixing’s words from the red carpet come back to him: “You’re going down.”  Chen sits up, still on his knees, and grins out at the roaring crowd before looking directly at Yixing again, as if he knows exactly what’s running through his mind right now.  His gaze darkens, and the _smolder_ Yixing sees there is enough to turn his legs to complete goo.  If he had been standing, he thinks, he would have fallen to his knees as well.  Chen winks at him again, this time all heat and sureness and fire, before standing, waving to the crowd, and jogging off his now-lowered platform to the stage wing.

Yixing lowers his head into his hands with a low groan.  He is so fucked.

 

~

 

Jongdae can’t keep the self-satisfied grin off his face as the four of them jump up and down backstage, nor as they wipe off excess sweat and return to their seats, still in performance clothing.  He’s too warm to throw his button-up back on, so he slings it over the back of his chair and crosses his arms behind his head.

The announcer comes back and calls out the nominees for Song of the Year, and Jongdae’s still high on adrenaline and the look on Lay’s face during his performance to fully note that KARD wins for ‘Rumor’.  Baekhyun elbows him when the announcer says “Album of the Year,” and the four of them clasp hands.  Chanyeol’s palm is sweaty in Jongdae’s left hand, Baekhyun’s twitchy in his right.  The two presenters walk up to the podium.  Jongdae’s gaze zeroes in on the purple envelope.

“And the winner of Album of the Year is…” says the male presenter, as his partner tears the envelope open.  She flips the card up and her eyes widen.  Jongdae squeezes Baekhyun’s hand so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Excalibur by EXODUS!”

The screams of the crowd are a dull roar in Jongdae’s mind.  He blinks at his members.  They blink back at him.  Yet there are hands at his back, shoving him upright, and pushing him towards the stage.  He looks back through the sudden veneer of tears at the girls from Red Velvet, half of whom are already crying.  They all grin at him, though, so he grabs onto Minseok, who latches onto Baekhyun, who snags Chanyeol, and the four of them walk up to the stage.

The male presenter, a young actor who Jongdae actually recognizes from the most recent buddy-cop movie, hands him the award.  “Congratulations,” he says, grinning sheepishly.  “You deserve it.”

Jongdae steps up to the mic and his throat closes.  He tries to swallow the lump that's lodged itself there but fails utterly, so he just starts talking, his voice full of emotion he can’t remove.

“This is an award that means everything to us as a band,” he says.  “This album, Excalibur, was experimental for us.  We poured ourselves into this album.  We wrote the lyrics, we composed the music, we produced the songs, everything.”  He pauses and laughs a little.  “Well, I wrote the lyrics, and Chanyeol composed and produced.  Those two did nothing.”  He gestures at Minseok and Baekhyun and is rewarded with a lot of laughter.

Minseok shoves him off the mic.  “Chen is a liar,” he proclaims to more general amusement, still sniffling a little.  “I was inspiration!  A sounding board, if you will.  You know, when he wrote She’s Dreaming -” He pauses as the fan sections explode into screams again.  Jongdae grins shyly and runs a hand through his hair.  “Yes, yes, he wrote it,” continues Minseok.  “But he stayed up until 5am finishing it!  And you know who was up with him?  Me!”

Jongdae hip checks him back off the mic, laughing.  “Okay, okay, I give.  Xiumin was essential to the album creation as well.  Just this one who did nothing.”

Baekhyun puts his head on Jongdae’s shoulder.  “And I’m proud of it!” he shouts into the mic.  Everyone laughs again.  Jongdae shoves him back towards Chanyeol.  

“But really,” he says, swallowing as he feels the lump return, “we poured our hearts and souls into this album.  We released it and were all so nervous we didn't sleep for three days.”  He grins fondly at his members.  “And then the reviews came in.  And you guys loved it.”  He chokes slightly, his vision now glassy.  “It shot to the top of the charts.  The songs off it were our most requested on tour.  The fans up there got _six_ different songs onto radio charts.  And we just felt so validated as musicians.”  He swallows again, but not soon enough.  A few tears drop from the corner of his eyes.  “So we would like to thank all of you who made this happen.  Our entire management and production team who believed in us and let us make this album the way we wanted to.  The fans, who voted for us and bought CDs and merch and loved this album and every song on it.  The World Music Committee, for thinking our album deserved this.”  He twitches the award slightly in his hand.  “And everyone who’s ever supported us and told us to reach for our dreams.  Our parents, our teachers, our friends, our mentors, anyone and everyone.  This was possible because of you.”  He swallows again and a couple more tears drop.  “Thank you so much.  None of us will ever forget it.”  He steps back and wraps his arms around his band.  They all sniffle before waving and walking offstage, tear tracks on every one of their cheeks.

 

~

 

Yixing wipes at his face gently with a napkin that Taekwoon had produced from lord knows where a minute ago.  He doesn't need tear tracks running through his makeup, but seeing Chen get all choked up and actually start crying along with his band members while accepting Album of the Year had made him extraordinarily weepy.  He sniffs and dabs his cheek, getting the last of the dampness off, and then his brain betrays him and goes back to how Chen had looked onstage earlier.

He completely misses Artist of the Year, his focus turned inward to the vision of Chen on his knees, veins popped, and the sight of his surprisingly broad shoulders and those arms in that tank, and how seductive he looks when he winks.  But the screams of the fan sections above him jerk him back to reality, where the announcer is calling for the final vote tally.

He gulps.  He knows he put on a fabulous performance, and his considerable female fan base would have all fainted and then voted for him, but after watching EXODUS he’s not sure anymore.  A graph flashes up on the back screen, six brightly colored bars growing and shrinking until two shoot up and remain even.  The announcer says, “Numbers, please!”  The screen flashes again and the two bars fill it, one labeled Lay Zhang and the other EXODUS.  A rolling number appears next to each bar, and each number slowly clicks to a stop.

The screams from above him are deafening.  Yixing can’t believe his eyes.

 

~

 

Jongdae blinks and then blinks again at the screen.  He almost wants to rub his eyes to make sure he’s really seeing what his brain is telling him is up there.

 

~

 

The announcer looks baffled for a second and then grins.  “For the first time in WMCA history, we have a perfect tie!  The winners of Performance of the Night, decided by the fans, are Lay Zhang and EXODUS!”

 

~

 

Yixing gets up, again, and heads to the stage, grinning, as he pops the top button on his shirt.  He slaps the hands outstretched to him in congratulations as he makes his way to the stairs.

 

~

 

Jongdae throws one arm over Minseok’s shoulders and the other over Baekhyun’s as they walk up to the stage.  They reach the stairs at the same time as Lay, but Baekhyun doesn't break out of his hold until they reach the top.

“Congratulations, Lay-ssi!” he says, slipping out from Jongdae’s arm and punching Lay’s shoulder lightly.  “Can you teach me how to body roll like that?”  Lay laughs, and Jongdae’s breath is once again swept from his lungs.

He could blame it on the reappearance of that dimple, but he knows that it's actually the gleam of sweat he sees in the hollow of his neck and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he tilts his head back.

 

~

 

Yixing grins as Chanyeol drops an arm around his shoulders.  “That was some performance, Lay-ssi,” he says in his deep voice.  “But please don’t teach Baekhyun how to body roll.”  Baekhyun smacks his arm and Yixing bursts out laughing again.  The five of them make their way to the announcer’s podium, and when Yixing looks back to see Chen and Minseok following them, the smile on Chen’s face is enough to make him breathless.

They reach the announcer, who glances at them before mumbling, “We only have one award, but they’ll ship the second as soon as possible.”

“That’s alright, Lay and our leader here-” Minseok shoves Chen forward.  “Can share it for speeches.”

The announcer smiles and holds out the award in acquiescence.  

 

~

 

Jongdae hates Minseok.  But he doesn’t.  But oh yes he does, because as he reaches for one side of the award, his fingers brush Lay’s as he takes the other side, and Jongdae glances up at him (only slightly, as Lay’s maybe two inches taller than him, which is the perfect height for him to just tiptoe up and press his lips to his) and then darts his gaze back out to the audience, breaking that train of thought.

He sees Lay lean over as they face the cheering crowd, but he’s still unprepared for his voice in his ear.  “Do you want to give your speech first?”

A shiver runs down Jongdae’s spine.  “Sure,” he breathes.  Anything to get him out of close contact with Lay right now.  Lay lets go of the award and ushers him to the mic, bowing slightly as he backs away.

Jongdae shoves all his thoughts into a box in the back of his brain and grins out at the cameras.  “I just gave an emotional speech, I can’t pull out another one,” he says, and a light giggle from Lay along with the rest of the crowd makes him smile even harder.  “Thank you to all the fans that voted for us.  We killed it, right?”  He thrusts his fist in the air at the answering cheers.  “Thank you to my wonderful bandmate Chanyeol for creating that arrangement.”  Chanyeol sweeps a bow and when he straightens his ears are a little red from the surplus of screams from the fans.  “But I would like to invite someone up to the stage to join us, because without him this fan award would have never been possible.”  Jongdae grins evilly.  “Kim Junmyeon, get your ass up here.”

The fans stomp their feet and scream at the top of their lungs as Junmyeon stands and starts to pick his way up to the stage.  “Junmyeon is the best manager we could have ever asked for,” Jongdae continues, “and he’s the one who makes sure we all stay in line and that everything gets done when it needs to be.”  Junmyeon walks up the stairs and Jongdae slings an arm around his shoulders once he reaches his side.  “This man,” he says, gesturing to Junmyeon with the award, “works so hard to make us the band we are, and I am so grateful to call him one of my best friends.  This fan award is not only for us, it’s for him too.  Thank you, everyone!”  Junmyeon slides his arm around Jongdae’s waist and squeezes as they step back.  Jongdae grins at him and then passes Lay the award as he goes up to the now-vacant mic.

 

~

 

Yixing can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy for Chen’s manager as he sees Chen flash him a brilliant smile, but he takes the award and goes up to the mic anyway.

“I’m basically going to say what he said,” he quips.  “Thank you to all of the fans that voted for me.  I hope you enjoyed it.”  He runs a finger along his shirt collar, pulling at it a little, and smirks into the closest camera.  “Thank you to my wonderfully talented friends, the members of 1Million dance crew, for creating this choreography with me and putting in the hours to make it perfect.  You all are the greatest, hands down, and I love you guys.”  He grins.  “I’m going to take another page out of Chen’s book and invite the three people who have been integral to my life and this performance up here.  Lu Han, Wu Yifan, and Huang Zitao, please.”  The fans practically combust in their seats, and Yixing spies Yifan and Zitao’s blond hair moving towards the stage.  “I’ve known all three of them for quite some time now,” he says, “and they have never failed me.  Luhan is not only my best friend but a fantastic manager, somehow keeping my life together and under control.”  The three of them reach the steps and practically leap up them to smush him between them.  He swears he can see tears sparkling in Luhan’s eyes when he drapes an arm across Yixing’s shoulders.  “Yifan and Zitao, most of you know as the heads of Adore Mr. Six, but to me they’re more than just fashion moguls.  They keep me grounded and always have my back no matter what.”  He pauses to gulp down the sudden lump in his throat, and Zitao leans forward.

“And we keep him looking fabulous, of course.”  Yixing swats his arm, smiling through his suddenly blurry vision.

“These three are the driving force behind me,” he continues, “and so this award is not only recognizing my performance but everything they did to make it come to life on this stage.  Thank you so much!”  He waves the award in the air and the four of them bow together.

 

~

 

Baekhyun is still hissing about the two blond men with Lay being the heads of his favorite fashion house to Chanyeol, but all Jongdae can really hear is the emotion in Lay’s voice as he talks about his friends.  Junmyeon is similarly frozen next to him, he’s not entirely sure why, and it takes Minseok giving them both gentle pushes to get them off stage when the announcer finally lets them leave, since the show is now over.

Jongdae jumps when Lay appears next to him backstage after Junmyeon goes off to herd Baekhyun into their dressing room to stop him from fanboying over Yifan and Zitao.  “This is yours,” he says, holding the fan award out.  “They said they would ship the second one as soon as it was ready.”  Jongdae looks down at the award and then up at him.

“Really, you should keep it,” he responds.  “It’ll take less time for them to ship the second one to me than to you.”

Lay doesn’t move.  “Right, but you deserve this.  Take it.”  

“No, you deserve it as well.  Keep it.”

Their eyes meet.  Jongdae crosses his arms.  “Seriously, Lay-ssi, keep the damn award.”

He shakes his head minutely.  “No.  You should have it.”

Despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth curl up.  “No.”

Lay’s eyes widen slightly.  “Yes.”  He wiggles the award in his hand.

Jongdae smirks.  “I’m very stubborn, Lay-ssi, especially when it comes to things I want.  Keep the award.”

“So am I, Chen-ssi,” Lay responds, and Jongdae’s ninety-nine percent sure that the other man’s eyes flick down to his lips and then back up.

He raises an eyebrow and leans marginally forward.  “What are you going to do about it?” he asks, voice pitched lower than usual.

Lay swallows and Jongdae watches his Adam’s apple bob.  “Wouldn’t you like to find out,” he says quietly, voice as husky as it had been during his performance, and Jongdae is suddenly very, very warm.  It’s his turn to swallow as he meets Lay’s eyes with his once more.

“Maybe I would,” he says, inching closer to him.  He tilts his head to the side and slowly, deliberately, scans the body of the man in front of him.  “How would you convince me to be less stubborn.”  He takes another small step forward.  

 

~

 

Yixing feels his hand tighten around the award as Chen lazily runs his gaze over him.  “How would you convince me to be less stubborn,” he says, and suddenly he’s closer than before.  He’s slightly shorter than Yixing, two inches if that, and his head is minutely tilted so all Yixing needs to do is take two steps forward and angle his head downward.  He wrenches his eyes away from those taunting kitty lips, and the predatory look in Chen’s eyes that he sees when their gazes meet again has him wondering what it would be like if Chen was the one that slammed him against a wall.  (Normally he likes to be the fervent one, as he enjoys the rush of a lover falling apart under him, begging him for more, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, but this… it makes him wonder what it would feel like to be that, to let Chen be the insatiable one, to let him take him apart until the only things he can say are curse words and his lover’s name.)  

“Maybe you should convince me,” he murmurs, and the blazing look Chen gives him in response sends a thrum through his entire body.

He opens his mouth to say something else but someone shouts “Chennie!” from across the room and Chen smoothly turns and steps away from him.  To Yixing’s surprise, he gets tackled by Sehun.

“SeHUN!” Chen yells, smile growing again, and wraps his arms around the skinny rapper.  “You look more and more like a noodle every time I see you,” he adds, and Sehun whines in protest.

“He’s not wrong, Sehunnie,” Yixing says, grinning when Chen’s eyes widen comically at the nickname.

Sehun groans.  “I don’t need the both of you ganging up on me like this.”  He pulls out of Chen’s arms, eyes narrowing.  “How do you two know each other?”  Yixing swallows and is saved from answering when Jongin and their manager Kyungsoo appear.

“Hi, hyung!” Jongin says, wrapping an arm around Chen.  “Long time no see.”

Chen smiles hugely.  “Hi, Jonginnie,” he says, reaching up and ruffling the dancer’s hair.  “You two were amazing tonight!  Can you believe I hadn't seen you live until tonight?”

Sehun pouts.  “Seriously, hyung?”

Chen ruffles his hair too.  “What can I say, busy life of a rock star.”  He suddenly jumps onto Kyungsoo, hanging off him like a koala.  “And how’s my second-favorite manager?  These two drive you crazy yet?”

Kyungsoo’s lips twitch.  “No,” he says in his quiet voice, “but now I remember why I can’t spend time with you, because it's only been a minute and I already wish you’d shut up.”

Chen laughs and pokes his cheek.  “Ah, Soo, is that how you say I miss you these days?”  Yixing gapes when Kyungsoo breaks into his full heart-shaped grin.

“Maybe,” he chuckles, and then he returns Chen’s hug.

“You have to come visit us soon,” Chen says to him.  “Chanyeol’d be glad to see you, and then you and Minseok can gang up on him and Baek like old times.”

“Close your mouth, hyung,” Jongin whispers before elbowing him gently.

Yixing turns to him.  “How?” is the only word that comes out of his mouth.  

“Later,” Jongin answers.

“It can happen tonight,” Kyungsoo is saying to Chen while Sehun smirks evilly.  “Are you coming to the after party?”

Chen pulls back to look Kyungsoo square in the face.  “What after party?”

Jongin grins.  “After party at that new nightclub White Noise.  All of us -” he gestures to the group of them “- plus a few more friends.  You in?”

Chen _finally_ looks back at Yixing.  “You guys better make this after party worth my while,” he says, lips curling up in a smile, and Yixing groans internally.  He wants to kiss those lips now, dammit, but Chen is saying something about how he can get the rest of his band there too if they come with him to convince them and Sehun and Jongin are suddenly pulling Kyungsoo along after him, calling out “We’ll see you there, hyung!” to him.

He lets out a sigh as they disappear around the corner to head towards the dressing rooms.  He needs to find Luhan, hopefully he hasn't let Yifan and Zitao slip away yet.  If he has to be tortured by Chen at the after party, he can do it while getting Yifan set up with Chen’s manager.

 

~

 

It doesn't take much convincing on any of their parts to get the rest of the band to come out with them.  Junmyeon is skeptical at first, but Kyungsoo and Sehun work some voodoo magic or something because he agrees to come celebrate.  Jongdae pinches Minseok once they’re in the limo, and everyone else is sufficiently distracted catching up (Kyungsoo had shoved Jongin and Sehun into the limo, citing his need to be alone with his car before subjecting himself to more exuberance - “He just wants to drive the car we rented some more,” spills Jongin once they’re all ensconced.  “I never knew he liked BMWs that much.”).  “I cannot believe you did that to me,” he says.

Minseok blinks innocently at him.  “Did what?”

Jongdae swats him this time.  “You know!” he hisses.  “Fan performance award!  Our leader and Lay can share!”

Minseok shrugs, his lips pressed together to keep from laughing.  “It worked, didn't it,” he gets out.  “You talked to him after, don't deny it, I saw you.”

Jongdae narrows his eyes.  “Still.”

Minseok makes his fingers into hearts and peers cutely out from behind them.  “I love youuuuu,” he singsongs, and Jongdae cringes and covers his eyes with his hands.

“Not the aegyo!” he yells, which gets the rest of the car’s attention, and Minseok buries his face in Jongdae's shoulder.

An aegyo contest begins and ends very quickly, with everyone pleading mercy from Baekhyun and his “bwing bwing!” that causes Jongdae to double over laughing.  

They laugh the rest of the way to the club, and when the limo finally stops they each have to take a moment and collect themselves.  “Remember,” says Junmyeon before he opens the door, “you are badass, world-famous, WMC Award-winning stars.  Own that shit.”

They do - they walk into the club like they own it.  Chanyeol spots Yifan waving them over to a table in the VIP section before his blond head disappears, so they head there first to start the alcohol flowing.  To Jongdae’s surprise, Leo and Ravi of LR are squished between Lay and Lee Jaehwan, a very well-known musical actor, who's currently talking Kyungsoo’s ear off.  (How Kyungsoo beat them there is a mystery, they had made excellent time from the arena.)  “How do you know so many other famous people, Lay-ssi?” Minseok asks as he slides into the circular booth, Sehun and Jongin plopping down on the other side of Zitao and engaging him in a quiet conversation.  Jongdae watches as Lay shrugs in response, his cheeks already slightly pink from whatever alcoholic concoction had been in the empty glass in front of him.  

“We can drop formalities, hyung,” he says, grinning at Minseok.  “We’re all friends here.”

Baekhyun looks at Lay.  “And yet you haven't introduced us, Yixing-hyung.”  Jongdae’s knees go weak, weak enough that if he hadn't been leaning against the side of the booth he probably would have fallen over.  He processes that name - he had _known_ that Lay was a stage name, he just had no idea that his real name would be something as simply gorgeous as Yixing.

Lay - no, Yixing - grins.  “LR, EXODUS.  EXODUS, LR.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes.  “I’m Chanyeol,” he says, extending his hand to Ravi.

“Wonsik,” he says in return.

Leo introduces himself as Taekwoon in a soft, lilting voice, and then Baekhyun, Junmyeon, and Minseok say their names, and then Jongdae smiles at the two of them and says “I’m Jongdae.”

 

~

 

 _Jongdae._  The name reverberates through Yixing’s brain as Jaehwan jumps in with a shriek of his own name and both Taekwoon and Kyungsoo smack him while the rest of the table bursts out laughing.  He clenches the material of his pant leg in his fist, the only tension he’s allowing himself, and looks back up at Chen ( _Jongdae_ , his brain helpfully reminds him) where he's casually leaning against the booth, looking like a CéCi street style model.  It’s probably the alcohol he’s already ingested, but he says without another thought, “Come sit, Jongdae.”

Jongdae’s eyes flash with something, but he grins ruefully.  “There's no space, Yixing,” he says, and good lord Yixing was not prepared for the way his name rolls off Jongdae’s tongue.  “You’re all squished.”  

Yixing smiles good-naturedly, noting the truth in his words.  “I sent Yifan to scare up some extra chairs,” he explains.  He notes Junmyeon’s minute twitch at the mention of Yifan’s name and feels himself smirk.  “Once he shows up with those it’ll be less crowded.”  

Jongdae glances around, his lips curling up.  “Yeah, once he shows up.”  He shrugs.  “I’ll make a bar run, then.  Coming?”  He shoots the last question at Minseok, who rolls his eyes and slides back out of the booth.  Yixing makes to get up as well but Jongdae looks at him again and says, “First round’s on us” before disappearing into the crowd.

 

~

 

Thankfully he and Minseok find the bar without any issue, and Jongdae collapses onto the first open stool he spots.  Minseok calls over a bartender but his order is lost to the thumping music and Jongdae’s pounding heart.  His friend leans against the bar after the bartender hurried off and looks at him.  He stares back.

They both crack a smile at the same time.  “I don't know, hyung,” Jongdae says, smile fading slightly, in response to Minseok’s unasked question.

Minseok rolls his eyes fondly.  “Listen to me,” he says, leaning forward to make sure he’s heard over the music and general noise of the club.  “You are Kim Jongdae, Chen of EXODUS, rock god extraordinaire.  You’re smart, funny, and you know, not terrible looking.”  Jongdae whacks him half-heartedly, smiling a little more.  “Your band just won three WMCAs,” Minseok continues, “including Album of the Year.  You got this.”

Jongdae leans his head onto Minseok’s shoulder.  “Such a way with words for someone who's normally quiet.”  He dodges Minseok’s pinch.  “It’s just been a while.  I don't want to fuck up royally.”

The bartender returns then and plunks four shot glasses down, filling them with whatever alcohol is in the bottle under her arm, before snagging the bill that Minseok slides to her and vanishing again.

“Perfect timing,” he comments, and pushes two of them to Jongdae.  “You need to stop doubting yourself.”

Jongdae eyes the second pair.  “What's the second one for?”  

Minseok grins.  “A, do you think I’d let you take shots alone?  And B, to celebrate, which is the main reason we’re here.”  He picks up one of the glasses and Jongdae does the same.  “Cheers, Jongdae-ah.”

They clink, tap the bar, and down them.  It doesn't burn as much as Jongdae had expected, going down, so he holds up the second one and grins at his best friend.  “Thank you,” he says, and they repeat the process.

The bartender appears as if summoned to grab the dirty glasses, but Jongdae stops her before she can slink away.  “Can we get two bottles of your best champagne and a whole lot of glasses sent to VIP?” he asks.

She nods. “Sure.”

He shoots her a smile.  “Put those on a new tab, please.”

“Name for the tab?”

“Uh, EXODUS.”  Her eyes widen but she just inclines her head and scurries off.

Minseok looks at him again.  “What?” Jongdae says incredulously.

In the time it takes them to weave their way back to VIP, whatever was in those shots hits him.  Not badly, he prides himself on his tolerance levels too much for that, but he definitely feels lighter, more at ease with everything.  He looks over at Minseok as they reenter the VIP area and then blinks as he takes in the table.  There are now chairs around one end, and Zitao has moved, presently draped over a chair next to Yifan and lounging and chatting with Baekhyun and Yixing, seemingly oblivious to the staredown happening between Junmyeon and the skinny dark-haired guy on the other side of Sehun who Jongdae recognizes as his manager, Luhan.

He turns in front of Minseok, blocking his view of the table, and says quickly, “Ah, I forgot to get myself a blue margarita, can you run back and put it on the tab for me?”

“Sure,” he responds, shrugging good-naturedly.  After he vanishes back in the direction of the bar, Jongdae slides into the booth and nudges Yixing.

He turns to look at him and Jongdae is struck anew by the beauty of his face, but he doesn’t want Junmyeon to start any fights on a night where they’re all supposed to be celebrating and having fun, so he leans in and says, “Keep your manager away from Jun and Minseok, please.  They have some sort of messy history, I’m not clear on all the details.”  Yixing’s eyes sharpen as he scans the table and notices the tightness on both Junmyeon’s and Luhan’s faces.

“Can do,” he mutters, and he pulls his phone out from his jeans and starts typing.  Jongdae belatedly notices he’s changed pants in the time between the show and here.  Gone is the performance wear (he’s still wearing the damn silk shirt, though, which is really not good for his concentration) and instead is a pair of tight, dark jeans, artfully frayed and ripped to let slivers of skin peek through.  Yixing tucks his phone away and a bartender in all black walks up to the table, carrying two ice buckets with a bottle of champagne in each.  Another staff person appears, arms full of champagne flutes, and Jongdae grins.

He stands and takes one of the bottles from the server.  “Let’s get this party going!” he announces, and pops the cork to cheers from Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Sehun, and Jongin.  The servers quickly distribute champagne and then seemingly melt away.  Yixing raises his glass.

“To our successes,” he says, grinning, and everyone joins the toast and takes a sip.  Jongdae can’t help but watch him swallow the alcohol, Adam’s apple bobbing, but then Baekhyun kicks him under the table and he’s swept into their conversation.  

Minseok returns with his drink and eventually lets the table know they’ve opened a tab, and the drinks keep coming.  Sehun and Jongin drag Luhan out to dance after a couple minutes when Jongin checks his phone, and Jongdae whispers “Thank you” into Yixing’s ear when he notices.

 

~

 

The amount of alcohol he’s had is definitely affecting him now, because all he can think about is the warmth of Jongdae’s breath and his low whispered “Thank you” and the brightness of his laugh, but he doesn’t care.  This is the most fun he’s had in quite some time.  He tunes back into the conversation at hand when Baekhyun says something about drawing and Yifan retorts that he could probably beat him at Pictionary.  Yixing snorts and covers his mouth to hold in the rest of his laughter, but it explodes out of him when Zitao, in his matter-of-fact way, tells Baekhyun that Yifan’s lying because his drawings are so bad that no one can ever tell what he’s doing.

“There was one time,” he wheezes, grinning at Yifan, “that he - he sent me a sketch for an outfit -” he can’t stop laughing at the memory “- and it was just a blob with - with squiggles and slash lines.”  His giggles get more violent as he pulls up the saved picture on his phone and pushes it to the middle of the table.  The motion scooches him closer to Jongdae, but the explosion of laughter from the rest of the table and the sight of Yifan burying his face in his hands pushes the thought from his brain and sets him off again.  

He wraps his arms around his stomach, still giggling, and then drops his hands to his thighs as he leans forward over the table to grab his phone back, reaching across Jongdae to do it.  He puts it back into his pocket and then, bolstered by the happy feeling in his chest, puts his right hand directly above Jongdae’s knee without looking at him.  The leg under his hand tenses slightly but he resolutely doesn’t glance to the side, keeping his eyes on Yifan as Zitao and Baekhyun continue to poke fun at him (so he sees Junmyeon nudge him gently, a quiet smile on his face).  

It takes all of his admittedly reduced self-control to keep his body relaxed when he feels thin fingers slide over his knee a couple minutes later.  He eyes Jongdae briefly, which was a terrible decision, as his profile is stunning, all high cheekbones and curly lips and sharp jawline, but he gives no outward indication that he’s currently running his hand along the rips in Yixing’s jeans.  His fingers lightly swipe over the strip of bare skin that pokes through above his knee, and Yixing closes his eyes briefly and repeats to himself that he cannot jump Jongdae in the middle of a club amongst their friends.

 

~

 

When a warm hand lands on his thigh and doesn’t move Jongdae’s brain goes blank.  He looks quickly at Yixing, who’s watching Yifan blush and stammer with a faint smile on his face, but there’s no other indication that he’s currently making Jongdae unravel.  He’s only half paying attention to the conversation now, because his lowered inhibitions have come up with an idea, and it involves giving the man sitting next to him a taste of his own medicine.

A minute later he inches his palm up over Yixing’s knee, feeling the difference in fabric texture as he goes over the rips and tears and frayed edges of his jeans.  He keeps his gaze on Chanyeol as he strokes the edges of a rip with the tips of his fingers and then grazes them over the band of revealed skin, but he can’t stop his lips from curling up a little when he feels the muscles in Yixing’s leg contract.

He’s so hyperaware of the warmth emanating from Yixing’s body, the sheer tension sparking between them, the light brush of their arms as neither of them move their hands, that when those long fingers delicately press into his thigh he can’t help the hitch in his breath.

“Dance with me, Jongdae,” Yixing murmurs, and Jongdae nods before fully processing the statement.  He refocuses on the table to see Baekhyun very flushed and draped on Chanyeol the way he does when he’s gone over his limit, Sehun wrapped around Jongin who’s leaning on Kyungsoo as they laugh at Chanyeol’s unsuccessful attempts to remove his leech, Junmyeon and Yifan leaning against the side wall as they chat, and Minseok, Taekwoon, Wonsik, and surprisingly Luhan having an intense discussion about soccer.  They get up, seemingly unnoticed, but Minseok looks over, sees that Yixing’s hand is now wrapped around Jongdae’s wrist, and raises his eyebrows suggestively.  Jongdae clumsily flips him off in response as they head to the dance floor.

He thinks he sees Jaehwan entwined with an extremely tall guy with blond hair (who sort of looks like that young model and actor Han Sanghyuk) but he loses sight of them as Yixing pulls him towards the center of the throng and closer to the DJ.  The music is loud, with a strong beat, and when they find a space amidst the mass of people it doesn’t take much to get Jongdae’s body moving.

Yixing, of course, is stunning, even surrounded by drunk twenty-somethings.  Jongdae can’t take his eyes off him, and it gets worse when the song changes to a remix of something by that American artist who always sings about sex.  He can’t remember the guy’s name but it doesn’t matter, not when Yixing is body rolling in that fucking silk shirt right in front of him.  The heat is getting to him, but he doesn’t care, letting beads of sweat drip down the side of his face as he lets himself go, keeping his eyes locked on Yixing.  He can tell that others are starting to eye them, and for good reason - Yixing is starting to sweat as well and lord knows how he manages to turn it into a part of his sex appeal.  Jongdae looks away from the gleam of his neck under the lights and his eyes meet Yixing’s.  The raw want that he sees there is almost paralyzing.

 

~

 

Yixing can’t keep his eyes off Jongdae.  He looks fucking stunning, sweat dripping off the sides of his face, neck and arms glistening under the flashing lights, and body rolling to the beat like nobody’s business.  He can tell that other people have started looking at them, which normally doesn’t bother him when he’s out dancing, but he overhears a girl say “The guy in the tank top is sexy as fuck” and his eye catches on a tall guy with clearly dyed hair lazily scanning Jongdae from the corner of the DJ booth, and suddenly all he wants to do is lay claim to him, tell everyone in the club that he’s here with _him_ , so he takes a step closer to Jongdae and meets his gaze for a second before wrapping his fingers around his wrists so that they’re dancing together.

A question sparks in Jongdae’s eyes and Yixing smirks a little.  “People are starting to stare,” he says, leaning in to make sure he hears.  

Jongdae smirks back, lips curling up so he looks even more feline than usual.  “Then let’s give them something to stare at,” he answers, and he twists, pulling one of Yixing’s arms across his upper chest.  Yixing makes a small, strangled sound at the feeling of Jongdae’s back and jean-clad ass pressed against him.  And then Jongdae starts moving his hips, knees slightly bent, and brings one hand up to hold the back of Yixing’s neck as his head rests against his shoulder, and it literally takes every ounce of reason he possesses to not - Jongdae arches slightly against him and all logical thoughts and reasoning fly out the window.

Yixing tightens his arm, holding Jongdae to his chest, and grinds back.  Jongdae hisses in pleasure and keeps moving, and Yixing can feel the blood rush to his dick.  He hardens embarrassingly quickly, and he would be ashamed of reacting like his sixteen-year-old self if Jongdae wasn’t the sexiest man he’d ever encountered.

 

~

 

Jongdae molds his body to Yixing’s, enjoying the sensation of his strong arm across his chest way more than he should, and feels him hard against his back.

He seems pretty large, judging from the size of the bulge pressed against him, and the thought of Yixing being turned on by this sends a jolt straight through his body.  He notices that he’s starting to harden as well, but he really couldn't care less, not when Yixing feels this good against him, his breath hitching every time Jongdae pushes his ass back.

 

~

 

Jongdae will be the death of him, Yixing thinks, his breath getting shorter every time the other man rolls his body against his.  If he hasn’t noticed how hard Yixing is by now, he’s the most oblivious person to ever exist, but he shows no signs of stopping.  Yixing lets out a short, involuntary moan when Jongdae’s fingers tighten on his neck, and he drops his head down to his barely-covered shoulder.  It’s then that he notices the pronounced bulge in Jongdae’s jeans.  “Fuck,” he breathes, and Jongdae presses back a little harder.

Yixing takes that as a sign that he’s open to doing something about it, so he finally, finally presses his lips to the juncture where Jongdae's neck meets his shoulders and Jongdae shudders.  Yixing grins into his skin.  “Do you want to get out of here?” he says, and he’s rewarded with Jongdae slipping out of his hold, grabbing his wrist, and dragging him along as they weave through the crowd.

They break free from the sweaty mess of the dance floor and Jongdae pulls Yixing into a darkened corner close to the entrance.  His back hits the wall of the club as Jongdae steps in front of him, eyes glittering.  “What do you think?” he says, looking him directly in the eye, all lustful bravado, and Yixing grabs his shoulders, pulls him all the way in, and kisses him.

It’s electric, their mouths shifting against each other like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, and the last coherent thought that Yixing has is that he could kiss Jongdae forever, before the only thing he knows is how fantastic those kitty lips feel on his.  Jongdae nips his bottom lip and Yixing opens for him, their tongues tangling as he slides his fingers into Jongdae’s hair.  Jongdae is fully pressed against Yixing now, fingers clutching at his shoulders as they kiss, and Yixing can feel his cock pushing against his thigh.  It throbs as he rips his mouth from Jongdae’s and attaches it to his neck, which makes him pulse in response, and Jongdae lets out a low moan.  His fingertips crush themselves into Yixing’s back and every time he applies more force Yixing feels lightning shoot down his spine.  He bites down on Jongdae’s Adam’s apple, leaving a red mark, and Jongdae swears audibly.  Yixing pulls back slightly, glancing around, but thankfully no one is looking in their direction.

“Sorry,” Jongdae says, not sounding sorry in the slightest.  He smirks at Yixing and smooths his thumb over his swollen lips.  “I tend to get vocal.”

Yixing swallows hard and his dick twitches at the thought.  “We should leave, then,” he rasps, shifting his hips so he makes full contact.  Jongdae’s breath hitches and he winks.  “Yours or mine?”

“I have soundproofed walls,” Jongdae responds, his voice husky, and Yixing presses a quick, searing kiss to his mouth.

“We should probably -” he kisses Jongdae again “- tell our friends -” Jongdae chases his lips this time “- we’re leaving -” he can't stop kissing him “- so they don't -” he goes in for one more “- worry.”  He swipes his thumb over Jongdae’s cheekbone before pulling his phone out of his back pocket and typing a quick message to Luhan.  Jongdae produces his phone as well and fiddles with it for a couple seconds before shoving it back into his jeans.

“Let’s go,” he says, eyes dipping down to Yixing’s lips again before he grabs his hand.

 

~

 

They make it to the limo unscathed, and Jongdae manages to give the driver his address before Yixing pulls him onto his lap.  “Your ass,” he murmurs, “looks fantastic in those jeans.”

Jongdae shifts in order to straddle him on the seat and smiles as Yixing swallows. “This ass?” he asks, circling his hips.

Yixing groans, and he plants one hand on each asscheek, stopping his movement.  “Yes,” he gets out, and Jongdae fuses his lips to his.

He resumes moving, grinding himself down on Yixing’s denim-clad cock as they kiss fervently, which makes those calloused hands grip his ass more firmly.  He gasps into Yixing’s mouth when he squeezes, his dick getting impossibly harder, then presses his lips to the Chinese man’s neck.  Yixing’s whole body freezes and his hands tighten even more, which makes Jongdae pull away slightly and look at him.

He takes pleasure in the fact that Yixing looks wrecked, shirt rumpled, lips swollen, and hair mussed, but his body is one hard line of tension.  Jongdae skates his fingers along his jaw questioningly, and he shudders.  “My neck,” Yixing breathes, opening his eyes and locking gazes with him, “is extremely sensitive.”  

Jongdae blinks. “Ah,” he says.  “So, if I do this…”  He runs the tip of one of his fingers along Yixing’s Adam’s apple.  Yixing inhales sharply and his hands clench on Jongdae’s ass.  Jongdae smirks.  “And what about this…”  He blows gently on his neck and feels Yixing’s cock jump against him.  

“Do you want me to rip your clothes off right now?” Yixing says through gritted teeth.  Jongdae’s mouth goes dry at the question and he licks his lips, but he’s saved from answered when the limo stops and he recognizes his complex.

“Inside,” he says to Yixing, before he leans into the front seat.  “Add a thousand dollars to your total from tonight if you can keep your mouth shut about this and go straight back to the club for the others.”

The driver nods briefly and says, “Yessir.”

Jongdae opens the door and pulls Yixing out with him, closing it behind them and waving goodnight.  The limo makes a U-turn as he unlocks the door to his two-story condo, Yixing’s warm hand in his.

He barely makes it over the threshold before Yixing slams the door closed and shoves him against it, kissing him like his life depended on it.  Jongdae slips his shoes off and wraps his arms around Yixing’s neck, kissing him back with everything he has.  The singer slips his shoes off as well, kicking them to the side, and then backs Jongdae all the way against the door, hands sliding down to grip his ass again.  Without removing his lips from Yixing’s, Jongdae jumps, wrapping his legs around the Chinese man’s waist and pushing his back against the wall to take some of the strain off him.  Yixing moans into his mouth.  “How far is your bed?” he asks between kisses.  Jongdae smiles against his lips.  “Down the hall, second left.”  

 

~

 

Yixing slowly walks down the hall, stopping almost every other step to kiss the man in his arms.  He passes the first door on his left and spots the second, speeding up a little because Jongdae starts peppering his neck with kisses and little nuzzles and the sensations are threatening to overwhelm him.  He pauses in the doorway of Jongdae’s bedroom and says, “Hold yourself up,” before letting his hands leave Jongdae’s pert little ass and skim up his sides.  He slides his fingers under that damn tank top, rucking it up, before Jongdae gets the message and lets go of his neck so he can tear it off.  It lands somewhere behind him, he doesn't care, all he can focus on is the stunning specimen in front of him.  He gently sets Jongdae down on his own two feet but the shorter man surges forward again, pulling Yixing’s face down to his for another blazing kiss.  Yixing loses himself in the warmth of Jongdae’s mouth, not paying attention to anything else, so it's a shock when chilly air hits his abs.  

He pulls away from Jongdae and grins, looking at the other man’s fists holding onto the edges of his shirt.  “How are you real,” he says wonderingly, gazing at Yixing’s torso.  “You know, when you did this on stage I almost had a heart attack.”  He lets go of one side and grazes his fingers reverently across the ridges of muscle.

“Good,” Yixing rasps, and he crashes his mouth back onto Jongdae’s.

His shirt slides off his shoulders, landing on the floor somewhere, and the feeling of Jongdae’s hard chest pressed against his is enough to make him moan into the kiss, and suddenly he’s being pulled forward by the belt loops on his jeans, his lips never leaving the other man’s.  Jongdae’s deft fingers undo his fly, make their way under the waistband, and shove, and then he detaches his mouth from Yixing’s and sinks to his knees with a smirk that sends whatever remaining coherency Yixing has flying out of sight.  

Jongdae’s tongue darts out, running across his lips as he wraps a hand around the base of Yixing’s cock, and that’s the only warning he gets before Jongdae puts his mouth on him.  

“Fuck, Jongdae,” he chokes out.

He hums, the bastard, while taking him deeper, and the vibrations cause Yixing to gasp, throwing his head back.  He can’t fucking think anymore, not while Jongdae’s tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock before he dives back down, and when he licks a stripe up the side Yixing groans Jongdae’s name.  He pauses, looking up at Yixing with those feline eyes and that devilish smirk, and then he shoves his cock back into his mouth and Yixing’s hands twist into his hair because he hits the back of Jongdae’s throat.  Jongdae just swallows, his powerful throat working around almost Yixing’s entire length, and Yixing could swear he sees stars.  He looks down right as Jongdae looks up and it takes quite a lot out of him to not explode at the sight - Jongdae shirtless, on his knees, with his kitty lips wrapped around Yixing’s cock, gaze burning a hole into his brain, is a vision he thinks he’ll never forget.  Jongdae swallows again and Yixing’s brain short-circuits.  He can’t take it anymore, he knows if Jongdae does that again he’ll come, so he pulls Jongdae off his cock by his hair, his mouth releasing Yixing with a soft pop.  He groans, looking up at Yixing, so Yixing tugs his hair again.  Jongdae hisses in pleasure, which Yixing makes a note of.

“Jongdae,” he says softly, fiercely, “what do you want?”  

“You,” Jongdae rasps.

“Clearly,” Yixing responds, one corner of his mouth quirking up.  “But how?”  He doesn't let Jongdae answer.  “Do you want me quickly, roughly, releasing all this pent-up energy in one burst?”  He tightens his hold on Jongdae’s hair, forcing his head up a little farther.  Jongdae gulps, that damn Adam’s apple bobbing, his eyes impossibly dark as he looks at Yixing.  “Or do you want to swallow me now and let me take you apart, slowly, maddeningly, until the only things you can say are curses and my name?”

Jongdae’s eyes glint.  He licks his lips - Yixing follows his tongue with his eyes, taking in their reddened state - and says, “I could show you,” before putting his hands back on Yixing’s thighs and enveloping his cock with his mouth once more. Yixing makes a guttural noise as Jongdae pulls back and smirks before diving down again, and the wet heat of his mouth is too much, too good, and his cock throbs as Jongdae does that swirl with his tongue again, and he can't hold back any longer when he takes him deeper and his throat constricts around him.  Yixing tugs on Jongdae’s hair as a warning and then he’s coming, choking out a string of swears, his vision tunneling to just the man on his knees in front of him, swallowing every last drop.

 

~

 

Jongdae is painfully hard, his dick straining against his jeans as he pulls off Yixing, licking his lips to make sure he didn't miss any spots.  Yixing’s hand is still clenched in his hair, and Jongdae waits until his grip loosens slightly to look up at him.

Yixing looks absolutely destroyed, chest heaving slightly, eyes blown.  He untangles his fingers from Jongdae’s hair and puts them under his chin, guiding him back up to standing.  He just looks at Jongdae for a bit, and Jongdae swallows at the intensity he sees in Yixing’s gaze.  “You,” Yixing finally gets out, tightening his hold a fraction (making Jongdae inhale sharply), “never cease to amaze me.”

He raises his eyebrows.  “Good,” he murmurs, and Yixing’s eyes flash before he presses his lips to Jongdae’s in a bruising kiss.  Jongdae responds instantly, hands coming up to clutch at Yixing’s broad shoulders.  He pulls away after a bit, leaning his forehead against the Chinese man’s.

“When else did I amaze you?” he says.

Yixing grins.  “You want an ego boost, hmm?”

Jongdae smirks in response.  “Maybe,” he says.

“Oh, you are devious,” Yixing answers, fingers trailing down Jongdae’s sides.  Jongdae shudders slightly as they sweep over his hipbones before starting to fiddle with the zipper of his jeans.  Yixing tugs it down and pops the button as well, which causes him to swallow, his mouth dry.  “Take these off,” Yixing says lowly, “and I’ll tell you.”

Jongdae detaches himself fully.  “Tease,” he groans, sticking his tongue out at the other man.  A laugh explodes out of him, which makes Jongdae smile.  He quickly wiggles out of his jeans, tossing them and his underwear somewhere off to the side, before stepping back in front of Yixing.  He’s gotten rid of the rest of his clothes as well, and Jongdae’s breath hitches when Yixing moves into his personal space, his face barely an inch from Jongdae’s own.  Yixing smiles, slow and sensual, and then he puts his slender hands on Jongdae’s chest and lightly pushes.  He takes a step back, and his legs hit the edge of his bed.  Jongdae wraps his fingers around Yixing’s wrist and falls, pulling him along for the ride.

They land sprawled on the bed, and Jongdae notices Yixing’s palms pressing into the mattress on either side of his shoulders, holding his body weight over him. He reaches a hand up and touches Yixing’s cheek, letting his fingers sweep over his dimple, and Yixing smirks and lowers himself down.  Jongdae lets out a whimper when their lower bodies come into full contact, but Yixing silences him with a searing kiss.

He loops his arms around Yixing’s neck and kisses him back, fully enjoying the way Yixing’s skin feels against his, soft and warm and intoxicating.  The Chinese man’s fingers trail along his shoulders, one hand going up into his hair and the other continuing across his arm and down his chest to rest over his heart.  Yixing’s palm is so, so warm against his chest and Jongdae feels like his heart is racing so fast it might just burst.  Yixing pulls away slightly and looks at him, his gaze heavy-lidded and deep.  “You amazed me when I saw you on the red carpet,” he says, pulling his fingers out of Jongdae’s hair.  “You amazed me that day a week ago when I crashed into you.”  He swipes his thumb across one of Jongdae’s cheekbones.  “You amazed me when I saw you in the break room.”  Jongdae can’t tear his eyes away from Yixing’s.  The deep brown is even darker, almost black, and his gaze is magnetic.  “You amazed me,” he says, voice even lower, “when you got on that stage and opened your mouth and the most stunning voice I have ever heard came out.”  That, more than anything, makes Jongdae flush.  “And then, of course,” Yixing continues, trailing his fingers across Jongdae’s chest, tracing muscle lines and feeling so fucking good he can’t help but swear quietly, “you amazed me when you eye fucked the shit out of me during your set.”

Jongdae smiles.  “What else could I have done?” he murmurs, catching Yixing’s hand in his.  “You had just performed with all of that.”  He gestures toward Yixing's perfect, perfect chest.  “Eight pack abs, a gorgeous voice, intricate choreography, and those goddamn body rolls, how else was I going to live?”

He gasps when Yixing rolls his hips at his words.  “These body rolls?” he asks, a smirk crossing his face.  He does it again and Jongdae gasps, “Yes, fuck yes, those.”  

“They’re very effective,” he whispers, and then he kisses Jongdae again, short and raw and hot, before pressing his mouth to his neck.  Jongdae arches when Yixing hits a sensitive spot, fingers scrabbling  at his arms, and he feels Yixing smile against his skin before he sucks a hickey into that exact spot.  “Shit,” Jongdae breathes, and Yixing nips at his collarbone before continuing farther down.

Jongdae’s ability to think is completely gone.  All he can see is Yixing’s dark eyes smirking up at him as he bites and sucks and kisses his way down his chest, pausing every time Jongdae’s breath catches or he lets out a moan.  Yixing’s long fingers dig into his hips as he lightly blows air across his abs, and Jongdae can’t help the groan that escapes him.  “Yixing,” he gasps, and the man in question just smirks as he slowly presses a kiss to the start of his happy trail.

“Fuck,” Jongdae chokes out.

Yixing noses his way down farther and then just before he reaches Jongdae’s dick he stops.  Jongdae’s whine of disappointment is silenced by Yixing’s lips, the kiss insistent and needy.  He digs his nails into Yixing’s shoulders when Yixing nips his lower lip, and then Yixing’s tongue is back in his mouth and everything narrows to the feel of his lips and the way their tongues tangle together and the warm weight of Yixing’s body on his.

Jongdae groans into the kiss when Yixing’s hands sweep down his sides and splay across his abs, and Yixing pulls away slightly with a tug of Jongdae’s lip between his teeth.  He looks down at where his hands are, and then at Jongdae’s aching cock, and then he quirks an eyebrow, smirking again, and Jongdae whines with need.

Yixing finally, finally wraps his fingers around Jongdae’s dick and Jongdae lets out a little gasp. “Fuck, Xing,” he breathes, “hurry up.”  Yixing just chuckles lowly and starts moving his hand.  His strokes are excruciatingly slow, every brush of his fingers sending another arc of electricity through Jongdae’s body.  Yixing presses a kiss to Jongdae’s hipbone as he rubs his thumb over his slit.

“Where’s your lube?” he asks, and Jongdae bites down on his lip before gesturing to his bedside dresser and saying “Top drawer.”  Yixing pulls himself up and rummages for a second before producing the bottle.  

The click of the cap has never sounded so satisfying to Jongdae’s ears.  His entire body is thrumming with arousal, and he’s not sure how much more of Yixing’s teasing he can take.   He hisses when Yixing presses a cold, lubed-up finger into him, but it soon warms and the sensation starts to wash over him.  “Christ, Jongdae,” Yixing says, crooking his finger and lightly kissing his shoulder, “you’re so tight.”

Jongdae can’t do anything but moan as Yixing pushes a second finger in.  He feels full already, and the length and rough callouses of the Chinese man’s digits are just serving as further stimulation.

His fists clench the sheets as Yixing works his fingers inside him, stretching him out and brushing against his walls every so often. “Fuck - Yixing,” he chokes out, and Yixing curls his fingers, hitting his prostate.  Jongdae curses again.  He’s never felt this level of need in his entire life, and it’s for the man stretched out below him, two fingers knuckle-deep in his ass, scissoring and stretching him and filling him up so well that he can’t help the slight rocking of his hips, and he just wants _more_ , more of Yixing and his wonderful fingers and his hot mouth and -

 

 _“Signal bonae signal bonae jjirit jjirit jjirit jjirit, nan neoreul wonhae nan neoreul wonhae, wae baneungi eobtni!”_ blares.

 

Both of them freeze and look at each other.  Jongdae blinks away the haze of arousal as the ringtone repeats.  Yixing slides his fingers out as it continues, a smile threatening to break out.  The annoyingly catchy chorus repeats again and something clicks in Jongdae’s brain.  “Fucking hell,” he says, scrambling across the bed to try and see where his pants went, “that’s Chanyeol, he’s just going to keep calling if I don’t answer.” He scans the floor and spots his jeans, in a heap reasonably close to the side of the bed he’s leaning over.

“Why Signal?” Yixing asks, starting to giggle, as Jongdae snags his pants and wrestles his phone out of the back pocket.

“It’s annoying yet strangely loveable,” he responds, hitting ‘Answer’ so the song shuts off, “just like him.”

Chanyeol’s loud voice comes roaring through the speaker.  “Jongdae-yah!!!!!  I reeeeeeeeeeeeally hope ‘ur home, cuz if not this is gonna be so fuckin’ awkward.”

“Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae says, in his no-nonsense voice, “this better be good.”

Yixing covers his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter.

“Yeah, so,” Chanyeol slurs, “Jun ditched uuuuus, and I was gonna bring e’rryone whoz left back to my place, buuuuuuut I realized that I fuckin’ left my house keys at yOUR PLACE!”

Jongdae groans.

“Are you fucking serious, Park?”

“Yeeeep!” he answers.  Jongdae can hear Baekhyun’s high-pitched giggling as Chanyeol continues.  “Can you just like bring me them?  I’mm ou’sside.”

Jongdae looks over at Yixing, who is watching him intently, still smiling, still stark naked.  His dick looks half-hard again, while Jongdae’s own erection is slowly wilting, the flush of arousal still evident on his skin.

“No,” he says shortly.  “Can’t you crash at -” The sheets rustle and Jongdae’s breath hitches as Yixing lies down and skates his non-lubed fingers across his hip. “Minseok’s?”

“I live with Junmyeon, remember?” comes Minseok’s voice.  “And he told me not to come home right before he left with that guy, whatshisname -”

“Yifan!” Baekhyun screams in the background.

Yixing makes a strangled sound and Jongdae slaps a hand over his mouth.  Yixing’s eyes glint with challenge.

“Fine,” Jongdae says. “Why doesn’t Baek have -” he chokes slightly as Yixing takes hold of his dick and starts stroking lightly “- his keys?”  

“Becaaaaaause,” Baekhyun says, his voice coming through more easily, “keys in my pocket would ruin the lines of this outfit!”  Jongdae clamps his lips shut to prevent any sound emitting as Yixing thumbs his slit and continues skillfully working his hand.  “Plus it would detract from this ASS.”

There’s a light smack and then Kyungsoo’s deadpan floats through the speaker.  “That’s a pancake, Byun, not an ass.”  

Chanyeol guffaws, quite loudly.

“Fine,” Jongdae repeats, as Yixing continues his ministrations. “W-where did you l-leave them, Yeol?”  He stuffs his knuckles into his mouth to keep from swearing when Yixing presses a kiss to the tip of his dick.

“I thiiiiink on ‘ur desk or something,” Chanyeol responds, and Jongdae groans as Yixing swipes his tongue over his dick.  

“Park Chanyeol,” he says breathily, shoving Yixing off his lap so he can stand on shaky legs, “I hate you.”

Chanyeol giggles at that.  “You luuuuurve me, Jongdae-yah!”

“Nope, untrue,” he says, and as he starts to walk over to his desk Yixing smacks his ass.

Jongdae covers the speaker with his hand as Chanyeol whines about him and his fickle heart.  “Rude,” he whispers at him.  

“I couldn’t help myself,” he whispers back.  “You have such a nice ass.”  Jongdae flips him off, winking, as he turns back to his desk.  He scans it once, and yes, there are Chanyeol’s keys sitting in a heap in the corner, easily identifiable by the Rilakkuma keychain.

“Park,” he says, jingling the keys.

“YES!” Chanyeol crows.

Jongdae takes three steps over to his window and looks out.  “Wait, you guys are seriously outside?” he says, surprise coloring his voice.

“Mmmmhmmmm,” hums Baekhyun loudly.

Jongdae cracks his window, sighing when the cool air hits his heated skin, and then drops the keys out before closing it.

“Go get your keys, Chanyeol,” he says.  “I threw them out my window.”

“I love you, Jongdae-yah,” Chanyeol singsongs, and Jongdae rolls his eyes.

“I don't.”  He braces his arms on the window sill, watching his idiot friends scurry around his yard looking for the glint of the keychain, when he hears a quiet moan behind him.

He whips around to see Yixing, eyes trained on him, one hand stroking his cock while the other skates up his torso and plays with a nipple.  “Oh, fuck me,” he says.  All of the blood that had left his dick comes rushing back, so fast that he feels a little lightheaded, and Yixing’s gaze drops to his crotch.  “Fuck,” Jongdae says again, a reverent note in his voice as he looks at Yixing, and Minseok’s voice comes crackling through his phone - he had totally forgotten to hang up at the sight of Yixing masturbating.

“Jongdae?  Are you with someone right now?”

“Shiiiiiit,” Baekhyun says, giggling, “Yeollie totally cockblocked him.”

“Not anymore,” says Yixing, loud enough for the phone to pick up, and Baekhyun’s squawk of “WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT” gets cut off as Jongdae hits end call and drops his phone onto his desk before he goes back to stand in front of the man on his bed.

Yixing looks up at him, all innocent.  “You devious bastard,” Jongdae says, grinning down at him, before he takes Yixing’s face into his hands and kisses him with everything he has.

They tumble back onto the bed, kissing frantically, and everything Jongdae had been feeling before Chanyeol had called comes roaring back in a wave so powerful he arches off the sheets.  Yixing growls deep in his throat when Jongdae nips his shoulder, and suddenly Jongdae’s somehow got three lubed fingers in his ass.  He cries out, legs wrapping around Yixing as he twists and stretches him until he’s ready.  “Yixing,” he gasps, “fuck me, oh god please, fuck me, I need you.”  Yixing bites his lip so hard Jongdae sees the teeth marks.

“Fuck,” he gets out, “okay.”  He pulls his fingers out of Jongdae and he mourns their loss for a second until he sees Yixing reach over to his dresser and grab a condom.  His mouth dries even more as Yixing rips it open and rolls it on, and he can’t control his loud moan when Yixing slowly pushes himself in.

“Oh my - fuck, Yixing, oh my god, fuck,” he gasps.  Yixing bottoms out and then stops, holding himself so still Jongdae can see the lines of tension in his arms.

“Jongdae,” he says, breathing heavily.  “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Jongdae exhales, relaxing his muscles to better accommodate Yixing’s girth.  Once he’s adjusted, he wiggles his hips a little, smirking at the little noise Yixing makes.  “Move,” he says, twining his fingers with his.

Yixing takes a deep breath, staying still, and then he pulls halfway out and thrusts back in, setting a slow, torturous pace.  Jongdae moans, rolling his hips to meet him, trying to get him to go faster, until Yixing lets go of his hands to hold his hips down instead.  “Yixing,” he whines, running his hands up the other man’s arms, “fuck, faster.”

Yixing meets his gaze, and Jongdae lets out another low moan at the lust he sees there.  “Say please,” Yixing says lowly as he starts circling his hips at an equally slow rate.

“Fuck, Yixing,” Jongdae gasps, “fuck, you feel so good, fuck me, faster, please, oh god - fuck!”  His voices rises into a shout as Yixing suddenly snaps his hips forward, almost doubling his pace instantly.  “Fuck, Yixing, oh my god, fuck.”  He digs his nails into Yixing’s shoulders as he pulls him closer, and Yixing shoves their mouths together, kissing him with fervor.  Jongdae locks his ankles around Yixing’s waist and kisses him back, messy and hot and perfect, and Yixing swallows all of his moans with his tongue.

They break apart, both panting, both still moving at the same rate, and then Jongdae _screams_ when Yixing yanks his hair and forces his head back at the same time that he slams all the way into him and then freezes.  Yixing pulls his hair again, making him arch more, and his cock throbs with pleasure as he clenches down on Yixing.  “Fuck, Zhongda,” Yixing says, eyes completely glazed over, and the Mandarin slant of his name has Jongdae quivering with need.

“Yixing,” he chokes out, “please, please, keep going.”

“Fucking hell,” Yixing breathes, and he drags his cock slowly out until only the tip is still inside.  “You’re so beautiful, Zhongda, so fucking stunning,” he says, and then he slams into Jongdae, tugging his head back as well, and Jongdae can't help but scream again.  

“Fuck,” he gasps.  “Yixing, Yixing, oh my fucking god -” Yixing starts thrusting, this time at a totally unforgiving pace, his hand still tangled in Jongdae’s hair and tightening every time he snaps his hips forward.  “Ohhh, fuck me, yes, like that, God, Yixing, fuck you’re so good, shit, right there.”  Jongdae keeps going, a waterfall of curses and moans tumbling out of his mouth, and Yixing keeps adding power to his strokes, his heavy breathing and occasional muttered swear going straight to Jongdae’s cock.  He rakes his nails down Yixing’s back, savoring the play of muscles he can feel as he continues to ram him, but then Yixing shifts and thrusts upward and Jongdae digs his nails in and wails because Yixing just found his prostate.  “Fuck me,” he cries, “oh my God, Yixing, fuck me.”

“Zhongda,” Yixing groans, and his speed increases yet again, his cock hitting that bundle of nerves every time, making Jongdae emit his loudest moans yet.  

“Shit, Yixing,” he gets out, “oh my _fuck_ I’m gonna come, fuckfuckfuckfUCK!”  Yixing slams his mouth against his, fingers pulling at his hair again, and everything is suddenly too much for Jongdae, the feel of Yixing everywhere, the slight pain from his scalp, Yixing’s plush mouth against his, the warmth of his body, his cock pounding into him, and bolts of electricity race through his veins until he comes with a shout of Yixing’s name.

His entire body tenses as his cock spurts come all over his sweaty stomach, and he hears Yixing groan, his thrusts becoming even faster and slightly erratic, and through the haze of orgasm Jongdae clenches around Yixing again.  “Fuck, Zhongda, fuck,” he gasps, and then he’s coming as well, hips stuttering against Jongdae’s as he moans.

 

~

 

Yixing’s entire body feels like jelly and yet he avoids collapsing on top of Jongdae, rolling slightly to the side as to not crush him.  They’re still entwined, but Yixing can feel himself softening, so he gently slides out before carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the wastebasket on the floor next to the dresser.  Jongdae is blinking up at him when he turns back to face him.

“That was….. wow,” he says, lips curving up.  

Yixing smiles back.  “Wow, indeed,” he says.  Jongdae’s face is flushed, his hair completely destroyed from all the time Yixing had spent pulling it, and he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, but to Yixing he looks more gorgeous in this moment than he has all week.  

“You’re looking at me weird,” Jongdae says, eyes tracing Yixing’s jaw before he looks down at himself.  “Why?”

Yixing blinks and tries to organize his thoughts, but his silence causes Jongdae’s gaze to shutter and his smile to disappear.  “If you want to go, you can,” he says bitingly.  Yixing blinks again.

“But I don't want to leave,” he responds.  “I was looking at you because you’re beautiful and I want to stay.”

Jongdae freezes, his face turning even redder, and Yixing grins, putting a hand against his cheek.  “You’re amazingly beautiful, and I want to stay,” he repeats, before he leans in and gently presses his lips to Jongdae’s.  He feels Jongdae’s lips spread into a grin before he kisses him back, and then Yixing loses himself for a bit.  Kissing Jongdae is addicting, the taste of him unique, with just a hint of the alcohol they had drunk earlier remaining, and Yixing thinks he could never get enough of the way Jongdae’s tongue swipes against his, mapping his mouth with precision and intent.  

They separate after a while, and Yixing pushes a stray strand of hair off Jongdae’s face before he says, “We’re kind of sticky.”

Jongdae giggles and Yixing feels his heart start going double time.  “Shower with me?” he asks, shooting him puppy dog eyes, like somehow he knows that they're the one thing Yixing can never resist.

“Okay,” he answers, and Jongdae grins as he wraps his fingers around Yixing’s wrist and pulls him off the bed.

 

They fuck in the shower.  Yixing finally gets his mouth on Jongdae’s cock for a few minutes before Jongdae pins him against the wall with those biceps and pounds him until he comes, swearing violently.  His orgasm is so powerful that he feels his entire body go weak, and Jongdae’s strong arms are the only thing holding him upright.  They rinse off again after, sharing languid kisses under the spray until they use up all the hot water, and then they make their way back to Jongdae’s bed.

Jongdae climbs onto the right side, so Yixing flops down on his left, content and sated.  Jongdae pokes his shoulder, wordlessly asking to cuddle, and Yixing immediately opens his arms to let him in.  Jongdae tangles their legs together and nestles into him.  He fits so perfectly into Yixing’s arms that he drops a kiss onto the Korean man’s hair before settling against the pillows and closing his eyes.  “When do you fly back to China?” Jongdae asks quietly after a bit, causing his eyes to flutter open.

“Tomorrow night,” he answers.

“Ah,” Jongdae says before falling silent.  His fingers glide along Yixing’s forearm, tracing the veins there.

Yixing catches Jongdae’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers.  “What is it?”

“Mm, nothing,” Jongdae says, looking at their hands.  “I was just wondering, maybe, if you would like to explore Seoul a little bit tomorrow before your flight.”  He rests his head on Yixing’s shoulder.  “I happen to know a good guide.”

Yixing smiles and lays his other hand on top of their clasped ones.  “Would that guide happen to be named Jongdae?” he asks.

Jongdae’s cheeks flush pink.  “Maybe,” he says.

Yixing lifts their hands and presses a kiss to the back of Jongdae’s.  “I would love to explore Seoul with a guide named Jongdae,” he says, and Jongdae whips his head up to look at him, eyes shining.  “Maybe,” Yixing continues, smile stretching across his face, “this guide would even take me to a nice Korean restaurant so I can try some of the local dishes.”

Jongdae hums in response before bringing a hand up to trace the line of hickeys he had given Yixing earlier.  “He might be able to manage that.”

“Promise?” Yixing asks, grinning at the Korean.

“Promise,” he answers, smiling back.  

“Ah,” Yixing says, “make a real promise.” He taps his mouth with one slim finger and raises his eyebrows.

Jongdae raises his eyebrows back at him before Yixing sees it click in his brain, and then he bursts out laughing.  Jongdae’s laugh ranks in the top three most beautiful sounds Yixing has ever heard.

“I see you, Yixing,” Jongdae says, still chuckling.  Yixing just winks at him and waits.  Jongdae sighs, still smiling slightly, and tilts his head up to give him a soft kiss.  “Promise,” he says quietly, and Yixing dimples at him in joy.  Jongdae snuggles closer to him, putting one hand on his chest and resting his head on the other, on top of Yixing’s arm.  Yixing strokes his hair, wondering idly about what they’re going to do tomorrow until his flight, and then the warmth of the body next to him and the full, sated, happy feeling in his chest lull him to sleep.

 

**

 

Two Years Later

 

“And the winner of the World Music Committee Award for Best Collaboration is…”  The female presenter rips open the purple envelope.

“EXODUS and Lay Zhang, “Dangerous”!”

The arena explodes into cheers.  Jongdae and Yixing stand from their table and grin at each other before making their way to the stage, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Minseok trailing behind them.  They reach the stage and the presenters hand them an award each.  They look at each other again and both gesture for the other to speak first.  They grin and say, “No, you go,” at the exact same time, causing everyone to explode with laughter.  Yixing finally relents, but he winks at Jongdae as if to say _I’ll get back at you later_ before he steps up to the mic.

“You see, our compatibility,” he says, making more laughs ring out.  “This song was a product of love, dedication, and hard work from both of us,” he continues.  “It was an experiment, something completely different from both our normal styles of music, and somehow we were both pleased with how it came out.”  Yixing looks back at EXODUS and grins.  “Thank you to my lovely manager and our respective teams for hopping on board and letting us create music together, and thank you to the WMC for recognizing it with this award.  And a big thank you to the fans for loving it!”  He bows amidst the applause and steps back, letting Jongdae and Minseok take his place, before he slings an arm each around Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

“Lay-ssi left nothing for me to say,” Jongdae whines, making everyone laugh again.  

Minseok elbows him.  “It really was a huge effort to create this song,” he says.  “We spent a lot of time in the studio, both here and in Changsha, and when we weren't in the studio we were on Skype calls discussing the song.  All of us poured our soul into making this,” he continues, “and we’re so thankful that all of you loved it enough to make it hit number one on the charts and give us this award.  We’d also like to thank our beautiful dear manager and both of our teams for the time and effort spent together to make all of this happen.  Thank you!”  Minseok goes back and replaces Yixing between Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

“While we’re up here,” Jongdae says, smirking into the front camera, “we have an announcement to make.”

The fan sections burst into shrieks and applause.

“Technically, two announcements,” pipes up Yixing, which makes them scream even louder.

Jongdae shoots him a confused look (if Minseok had somehow let his plan slip, he was going to _murder_ him) and then continues.  “Because of the success of this collaboration and how much everyone loved it,” he says, grinning, “we have decided to create a collaboration album, to be released in exactly two months from now!”  The entire arena explodes with cheers, and Jongdae can’t keep the grin off his face as he reaches into the pocket of his blazer for the little black box and turns to Yixing, and then he gasps, along with the rest of the crowd.  Everyone falls silent.

Because Yixing is in front of Jongdae, sinking to one knee, holding a little black box in his hands.

“Kim Jongdae,” he says, voice shaking slightly, “will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Jongdae’s vision is blurry.  “Zhang Yixing,” he starts, “you absolute asshole,” and then he pulls his hand out of his blazer pocket and drops to his knee as well.

“Zhang Yixing,” he says again through his tears, holding out his little black box, “will you do _me_ the honor of becoming my husband?”

Yixing looks at him, eyes sparkling with tears of his own.

“Yes,” they say in unison, and then the two of them crash into each other, both of them crying and kissing like there’s no tomorrow.  

Baekhyun clears his threat very loudly after a bit, and they break apart, tear tracks still glistening on both their faces.  Jongdae flips him off, not very discreetly.

They slide each other’s rings on and then link hands before turning to face the crowd, which is screaming and cheering like they’ve never heard before.  The fan sections are stomping their feet so much it sounds like rolling thunder.

“So, our second announcement is that we’re engaged!” Yixing says, which redoubles the cheers.  They hold up their entwined hands, rings flashing under the spotlight, and then they’re mobbed.

Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Minseok jump on them first, followed closely by a sprinting Luhan.  Junmyeon, Yifan, and Zitao join the group hug not long after, and then there’s a thud as Jongin, Sehun, Kyungsoo, Taekwoon, and Wonsik arrive and glomp on.  The group hug finally breaks when the PDs come out and forcefully tell them to get offstage, they have a timetable to stick to, but they all troop backstage together to prepare for the collab performance.  Jongdae and Yixing look at each other and grin again.  Neither of them have ever been this happy before.

 

And to think it all started with an awards rivalry and a chance meeting in a hallway.

**Author's Note:**

> um, wow.  
> i honestly can't believe this is done.  
> this fic is the longest thing i've ever written.  
> #xingdaeforever  
> HAPPY EXO COMEBACK  
> as always, come chat with me on [tumblr](http://www.yixingminseokjongdae.tumblr.com/ask)  
> ♥ yixingminseokjongdae


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